


(Don't Worry) [They're] Sugar Pills

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Control Issues, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Munchausen by Proxy Syndrome, Patient!Gerard, Suicide Attempt, nurse!frank, threats of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a failed suicide attempt, Gerard wakes up in a St. Agatha's Hospital where his nurse is a bit more affectionate and hands-on than Gerard would prefer. But the nurse becomes Gerard's only true, sympathetic companion, the affection no longer feels so misguided. </p><p>There's something dark and sad behind the lights in Nurse Franks eyes and Gerard begins to wonder if they might have more in common than it seems--granting them the possibility of becoming more than just nurse and patient. </p><p>If only he knew that that darkness was not sorrow. It was not sympathy. It was madness, and Gerard was about to enter into something far more sinister than he ever could have imagined when he agrees to move from the hospital into Nurse Frank's home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_1_

Frank would never understand how someone so beautiful could ever try to end his own life. From the moment he was wheeled up to his own little safe, sterile room in the hospital, Frank had been at his side—hooking up fresh IVs, the heart monitor, the oxygen tubes, the catheter, everything he needed. He cleaned up his face, even though he didn’t have to and had other patients to care for, smoothed his hair and watched him sleep a moment. 

“What are you still doing in here?—You were supposed to be in room 313 half an hour ago.”

Slowly, painfully, Frank pried his eyes away from Gerard and took his hand away from the sleeping man’s hair. 

“Sorry,” Frank whispered. “I just feel…so bad for him.”

“You know who _I_ feel bad for?” His coworker, ‘Nurse Hanworth’—never Nurse Eileen or _just_ Eileen; _always_ Nurse Hanworth—said. “I feel bad for poor Mrs. Connely in room 313 who is _still_ waiting for her dose of pain medication.”

“If you’re that concerned, why don’t you get it yourself?” Frank asked. She had seniority over him, but he had some dirt on her that left her trembling in his wake whenever she tried to get him fired. He had a little bit of dirt on everyone in the hospital, for the most part. Anyone who mattered, at least. He had a small bit of dirt—okay, maybe just a speck of dust—on the director of the hospital, too. 

Like a tenured professor at a university, Frank had a job for the rest of his life at the hospital no matter how lazy or slow he was on some nights. So long as he didn’t kill anyone, at least. 

And he hadn’t done that since the accident.

No one but him new about the accident.

Well, they knew a patient died, but not that Frank had caused it.

“Get your ass to 313. Mr. Way needs his rest,” Nurse Hanworth said, turning on her heel and walking briskly away down the hall.

“Not like I can wake him up,” Frank muttered, turning back to Gerard and stroking his hair a few more times. Mr. Gerard Arthur Way—D.O.B April 9, 1977, height 5’10, weight a pathetic 130lbs—was heavily sedated after trying to commit suicide by drinking antifreeze. 

Today was his twenty-fifth birthday. 

His younger brother, stopping by Mr. Way’s apartment to surprise him, had found him convulsing on his kitchen floor.

What a sad way for a beautiful man to spend his birthday, all alone with a bottle of sweet poison. 

Knowing he could stay in the room no longer, Frank stroked Mr. Way’s cheek and then stepped back over to his medical cart and ruefully pushed it out of the room, on his way to Mrs. Connely in 313.

Recovering from a broken hip, sustained when falling down the stairs. There was nothing beautiful about her. Frank wanted to stay with Gerard.

At least, he thought, he was being made to work a double. At least he’d get to be the one who welcomed Mr. Way back to life. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard could still hear the static on the radio. He could’ve just made a playlist, picked all his favorite songs and listened to them as he laid down for one final, eternal nap on his couch, but he’d wanted to hear voices—real, live, human voices—coming through his speakers. The DJ listing off song titles, reading the weather, the traffic, occasionally filling him in on celebrity gossip and world news…

He didn’t have to feel completely alone. Someone was with him—not trying to talk him up or talk him out of it—just talking, just filling the silence as he took sip after sip of a spiked bottle of wine. 

Gerard could still hear the static…

The radio he had set up in the corner of his living room had such poor signal. It seldom bothered him since he could just tune into online broadcasts, but tonight he’d wanted to hear it come through the airwaves. He tried and tried to adjust the antenna and get a clear signal, but he got nothing… Faintly, behind the static, he could hear the music he loved. The station even played Bowie around the time Gerard had finished half the bottle. 

After a while, Gerard became more and more thankful for the static; it gave him something to concentrate on other than the pain in his stomach and the aching nausea. But soon, too soon, the static was all he could hear. The static didn’t distract from the pain and Gerard had gotten up from his place on the couch to throw up in the kitchen sink. 

He never made it to the sink.

He collapsed onto the floor and rolled over onto his back. His limbs had started shaking and his vision grew swimmy as he stared at the overhead light. 

But that light was gone now, and he could still hear the static—a sharp, hissing sound. He tried and tried to hear the music, but there was none. Now, the only sound under the white noise was a slow, steady beep. Over and over and over.

Gerard blinked and stared at the pale, blueish expanse in front of him. His body hurt and his eyes hurt…

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Way! It’s so good to see you awake.”

Suddenly, a man leaned over him—smiling and fresh-faced. He had on scrubs the same watery, blue color as the background, emphasizing the darkness of his long hair. 

“I know you don’t feel good right now, but I got you the _best_ medication I could.” The man kept smiling, then reached toward him.

Gerard flinched, but there was no way to escape the hand that touched his head and began stroking his hair, then caressing his cheek. He tried to turn his face away, but the other man just cooed and started stroking his hair again.

“Mr. Way…. You poor thing. I’m going to take good care of you. Don’t you worry. Don’t you worry about a thing, Mr. Way…” 

Gerard blinked hard a few times, trying to clear his vision as the static faded and the beeping came faster and faster. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his stomach and he let out a choked yelp and fell back against the surface beneath him.

“No, no, no. Mr. Way, don’t worry.”

“Where am I?” Gerard asked, his throat raw and sticking. 

“St. Agatha’s Hospital. You were brought in last night—”

“St. Agatha’s? The—The women’s asylum?” Gerard asked, trying to sit up again only to have the pain tear through his abdomen again. 

“Oh, we’re not _just_ a women’s mental health hospital anymore. Not since the late ‘80s. You silly thing. We help _everyone_ who’s sick now,” the man said, beaming and shaking his head. He kept petting Gerard’s hair no matter how hard Gerard tried to squirm away. “Do you remember last night, Mr. Way? Anything at all?”

“It was my birthday,” Gerard said, swallowing hard in an attempt to soothe his sore throat. It did nothing but make it burn worse. 

“That’s right!” The man said. His excitement reminded Gerard of a kindergarten teacher, happy that the students had finally learned how to spell their own names. “You turned the big twenty-five—half way to half way.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, more of his memory sliding into place. “That’s… That’s great. Really something to look forward to.”

“Aw, don’t look so down, Mr. Way. You’re with me now, and I’m going to take _good_ care of you.”

Gerard sighed and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tightly as he fought off another wave of pain in his gut. 

“Mr. Way?”

“What?” Gerard snapped. He didn’t want this. He wanted to be alone—he’d wanted left alone, to die and finally be at peace. No more self-doubt, no more loneliness, no more pain. Why the hell did he have to wake up here and be petted by Mr. Nurse Touchy-Feely?

“I _am_ going to take good care of you. If you need anything, _anything_ at all—” The man leaned out of Gerard’s line of vision, so he rolled his head over on the stiff, over-starched pillow, and watched as the man’s blurry arms reached for something next to the bed. “—you just press this button right here.” He pushed the bulky, plastic remote into Gerard’s right hand and moved his thumb over the red pager button. “Press this and I’ll be at your side in no time.”

No time, Gerard thought. In hospital time, that meant anywhere between thirty-minutes to two hours.

“Right…” Gerard muttered, turning his head back to look at the ceiling. 

“I mean that, Mr. Way,” the nurse said, touching Gerard’s hair again—petting it and smoothing it—then running his hand down Gerard’s cheek. “Press this and I’ll come running. Nurse Kaitlyn will be here soon to give you some food and get you cleaned up.”

“If she’s coming, why are you here?” Gerard asked, turning his head back and forth on the pillow to get the nurse to stop touching his face. 

“Oh—I’m not supposed to be working this floor today. I’m upstairs in pre-natal unit, but—if I must say, Mr. Way—I’d much rather be down here with you than testing urine samples.”

“Great,” Gerard said, closing his eyes and sighing. “That’s a real compliment.”

The nurse chuckled and finally took his hand away. 

“It’s good to see your sense of humor is alive and well, Mr. Way. Nurse Kaitlyn will be here soon, but I’ll be sure to check in on you _whenever_ I can. So don’t go anywhere.” The nurse laughed—a high pitched giggle—and he stepped away from the bed. 

Gerard opened his eyes enough to watch the man step out of the room and into the hall. Right away he heard the nurse begin talking with someone else.

“Remember what I told you,” he said. “If he pages, _call_ me. Please. I’ll take care of him.”

“Yes, I heard you the first three times,” another voice came. A female one. Probably Nurse Kaitlyn, Gerard presumed. “Don’t worry. I know you’re the best with these cases. I understand.”

“Thank you,” the nurse said. His tone wasn’t as friendly when he was talking to his co-workers—not at all giggling and bubbly like he was with Gerard. He was probably another one of those medical professionals who actually hated people and used their position to abuse them.

Gerard made a mental note not to press the red button for anything—not that he’d intended to. He didn’t want Nurse Feel-Goody to start rubbing his hands all over his face again.


	2. Chapter 2

_2_

Frank was horribly tired, only managing to sneak an hour long nap in one of the hospital’s back stairwells during his extended double shift. Mr. Way had gotten upset early that morning and had tried to leave, but as soon as he tried to stand up from the hospital bed, he began throwing up and his weakened body collapsed under him. He was sedated after that and Frank just couldn’t bear to leave him, even now that his long shifts had come to an end. 

Frank slid into Mr. Way’s room after clocking out, changed into his street clothes in place of his scrubs, and closed the door. The other nurses would think he had visitors or that a doctor was speaking to him. It would buy Frank at least thirty minutes of privacy, but probably longer. Mr. Way’s drugs had already been administered and unless his monitors started showing signs of distress, no one was going to come check on him. They were all too busy with the other patients. The “sicker” patients instead of the dumb ones. 

Because that’s what Frank’s stuck-up co-workers thought of cases like Mr. Way. They thought the suicidal were crazy, or selfish, or dumb—no empathy, no compassion. They didn’t understand the way Frank did.

Slowly, Frank stepped over to Mr. Way’s bed and pushed the bangs out of the sleeping man’s face. His skin was so pale and cold, not even the slightest tint of pink on his cheeks. 

“You poor thing,” Frank said quietly, still stroking Mr. Way’s soft hair. After a moment, he sat down on the bed at Mr. Way’s side and leaned over him, his right hand on the other side of the patient’s body while the other ceaselessly petted his hair. 

Poor Mr. Way. 

Lonely, depressed, suicidal—now trapped in a dreamless, drug-induced sleep. 

At least his poor stomach wouldn’t be hurting him anymore now, though the cramps and burning could last days if not weeks, depending on how bad the damage was. Frank wished he could just give Mr. Way morphine to blot out even the slightest twinge of pain, but he’d seen what morphine addiction had done to his grandmother and it was a horror he never wanted to witness again—not with anyone, especially not someone as beautiful as Mr. Way.

“My poor dear,” Frank whispered. “I’m here, beautiful. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’m going to make you _all_ better, just you wait and see.”

Frank’s heart leapt in his chest when Mr. Way let out a quiet hum, as though he reciprocated Frank’s feelings and accepted his affections.

“Oh, Mr. Way—Gerard… Can I call you that? Is it too soon?”

Mr. Way didn’t make another sound and Frank sighed, a little disheartened. He knew the man was medicated—that he _needed_ to be medicated in order to rest and heal—but wished there was more he could do to help. But it was too soon to give affections like he wanted…

At least…

Well…maybe.

_Maybe._

“Mr. Way?” Frank whispered, scooting closer and leaning down a little closer to Mr. Way’s face. “Mr. Way… I’m going to do everything I can to get you better. Alright? But you have to help me… And trying to run away today… That wasn’t very helpful. That scares me. I don’t want you to get hurt. Someone so beautiful should never, ever get hurt. Not ever…” Frank bowed his head further and pressed a kiss to Mr. Way’s forehead. 

Mr. Way let out another sound, a sad, strained noise that broke Frank’s heart just a little more. 

“I’m going to make it better, Mr. Way… _Gerard,”_ Frank said, smiling as he stroked Mr. Way’s cheek, then ran his hand down the patient’s chest, peeling away the blanket. “I’m going to make it all better.”

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard woke with a start, his heart racing though he didn’t know why. He couldn’t remember a bad dream or a noise that had startled him, but his chest was tight and his heart was pounding. He had trouble taking in a breath and, for a moment, he couldn’t move any of his limbs—adding to the panic. But then it fled just as quickly as it had appeared and, though his heartrate was still high, he was able to slow his breaths and begin calming down.

He was alone in the little, sterile hospital room. It was dark outside and his room was nearly pitch black, the only lights coming in from the crack under his door and the dimly lit monitors at his bedside. 

As soon as the fear began to leave him, the pain returned—a sharp bolt of pain that pulsed in his abdomen as though he were being repeatedly stabbed. He tried and tried to ignore it, willing it away so he could go back to sleep, but it only grew more and more painful until he had no choice but to reach over and push the damned red distress button, calling for a nurse who would tell him what they’d told him the past three nights—“I’m sorry, Mr. Way, but we can’t give you any more medication. Here, have some water.”

Except the nurse that burst in his room wasn’t one of the insensitive women who thought his pain was nothing to whine about. It was someone Gerard had hardly seen (except in small glances as he woke up or when he was falling asleep—like images from a faraway dream) since his first day in the hospital—the male nurse who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Is everything okay? I was just about to bring you some food…”

Food, Gerard thought. It was so dark outside, far past the time it was acceptable to be serving dinner.

“My stomach hurts,” Gerard said, swallowing hard.

“Oh—Yes, I’m so sorry, Mr. Way. Your medications are wearing off. I can’t… Well… Let me get you some water.”

Gerard whimpered and let his head fall back against the pillow. Of course, it would be no different no matter who came to him. He almost wished the nurse wouldn’t come back, that he’d just stay away and spare Gerard the pain of being made to sit up and drink water that couldn’t help. Drinking just made him have to pee—and that meant asking for assistance to stumble over to the bathroom.

It was about fifteen minutes before the nurse returned with a tray in his hands. 

“It’s not _time_ for a meal!” Came a voice from the hallway.

“He needs to eat! I don’t care about the schedule!”

“You can’t just—”

“He was sick at dinner! I’m feeding him. That’s the end of it. Now get out of my section. Don’t you have bedsheets to change or something?”

Gerard turned to stare at the doorway as the male nurse entered. The man’s face was hard and angry, but as soon as he laid eyes on Gerard, it softened in the dim light which bled in from the hallway.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” the nurse said, coming over to Gerard’s bed and setting the tray down on the end table. “I have to adjust your bed. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, used to having the bed moved without his say-so or even the slightest bit of consideration. He winced as the bed was raised, however, his stomach cramping as he was made to sit up. 

“Is it alright if I turn on the lamp? It’s dangerous to eat in the dark.”

“That’s fine,” Gerard said, cringing as the nurse immediately switched on the light.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, not missing a beat in picking up the tray again and setting it over Gerard’s lap. As soon as the tray was set down, the nurse himself sat down at Gerard’s bedside and picked up the glass of water on the tray. Next to the glass, Gerard noticed, were two blue pills.

“What’s that?” Gerard asked, looking at the tablets. None of the other nurses had offered him more pain medication when he woke up with the cramping. They just told him he had too much medication in his system already and said, in the politest voices possible, that he needed to man up and deal with it. It was his own fault he was here and he should accept the consequences of not succeeding in his efforts.

“They’re vitamins,” the nurse said, holding the glass of water up to Gerard’s lips and making him drink—as though he thought Gerard to be some sort of invalid incapable of even taking a drink on his own. “But, between you and me, they’re a weak pain medication just to take the edge off your stomach ulcers so you can sleep.” 

“Thank you,” Gerard said. He reached for the pills, but the nurse grabbed them before he could and moved to hold them to Gerard’s lips. 

Gerard grimaced, not liking having the pills hand-fed to him, but the nurse ignored his discomfort and held the pills there expectantly until Gerard parted his lips and let the tablets be set on his tongue. No sooner had he accepted them did the nurse return the water glass to his lips and coax him to take a drink.

“These pills may make you nauseated, so that’s why I brought you a little meal. It helps to dilute them in your stomach and water doesn’t quite do the job,” the nurse said, smiling fondly.

Gerard didn’t care for the special attention, for being hand-fed, or to have the nurse _sitting_ so close to him on the bed, but he couldn’t lie—the man had a nice smile. A _stunning_ smile that went from his lips all the way to his eyes. Warm eyes…

“Are you okay?” the nurse asked, tilting his head. “They’re not…making you sick already?”

“No,” Gerard said, ducking his chin and shaking his head. “I’m just… I’m tired, I guess.”

“Well it’s been a busy couple of days. You even had visitors yesterday.”

“Just my mom and my brother—wondering why I haven’t been released yet.”

“Because you’re not better yet,” the nurse said, turning his attention to Gerard’s dinner tray and opening up the plastic container at the center to reveal a bowl of thin, watery soup. “We’ll release you just as soon as your ulcers have healed up and you’ve gotten your strength back.”

“How long do you…think it’ll be?” Gerard asked, grabbing the spoon quickly before the nurse could, avoiding being fed like a toddler. 

“Mh… Just a couple more days,” the nurse said. 

Gerard pulled in a mouthful of soup and looked over at the nurse’s chest, straining to read his badge. 

_Iero, F. RN._

F, Gerard thought. What names did he know that began with F? Fred? Fredrick? Flint? Frank? Finney? 

“You’ll be well and…on your way out in no time at all, Mr. Way,” the nurse said, sighing as though the thought made him _sad._

“You…you can call me Gerard if you want,” Gerard said, feeling his face start to heat up and hating himself for it. He just meant to be kind to the one nurse in the whole hospital who seemed to care about him, but now he was afraid he was coming off as _interested_ in the other man. The very last thing he was was _interested_ in the touchy-feely, far too friendly nurse. 

“Well,” the nurse said, looking up and beaming at Gerard, his eyes glittering. “In that case, Gerard, you’ll be on your way out in no time at all. I’m going to do everything I can to get you well.”

“Thanks,” Gerard said, lowering his head again, embarrassed.

“How about tomorrow I bring you some real food for lunch? Just something light—something healthy. This soup is no good,” the nurse said, taking the little bowl away from Gerard. “No good at all… How am I going to get you better if they’re feeding you poison and _meat?_ ”

“I like meat,” Gerard said, grabbing the little bowl of soup back. He wasn’t exactly hungry, but he would prefer to eat that tasteless soup than to spend his pain-free hours sick with nausea instead. 

“Meat is _unhealthy._ You don’t know what they’ve fed those animals or did to those animals before they died! All full of—of _disgusting_ growth hormones and antibiotics. Ugh. It’s just so terrible for you. I’ll bring you something _healthy._ ”

“Healthy means gross,” Gerard said, forcing out a little laugh as he brought the bowl to his lips and took a drink.

“If I can bring you something healthy tomorrow that isn’t gross, will you agree to give up meat for me while you’re here? I want you to get better. Eating processed poison isn’t healthy at all. Not at all…”

“Well… If it means that much to you, then I’ll try it.”

“It’ll help your stomach, too. Meat is hard to digest and you really need to start taking better care of your liver—meaning greens. Like broccoli and kale… And starches.”

“I like broccoli,” Gerard said, finishing up his soup and setting it aside. There was a slice of buttered bread on the tray as well as a cup of red gelatin. It wasn’t much of a meal, but it was food and Gerard was a bit hungry now that his stomach pains were dying down. 

“See? Eating healthy isn’t so bad,” the nurse said, smiling again. “I’m so glad you’re willing to let me help you. I think that we—”

“Frank!? You were supposed to clock out two _hours_ ago!”

Gerard turned toward the door where one of the doctors stood, her face scrunched up in bitter anger. 

“I’m off the clock—I just brought a patient a meal.” The nurse, Frank, stood up from the bed slowly, as though he thought if he moved slowly enough, the doctor wouldn’t notice the unprofessional behavior. 

“You are _not_ off the clock. I just looked at it and you’re still punched. Get _out._ Go home. Get some _sleep._ And leave Mr. Way alone. He needs his rest, not you fussing over him every ten minutes.”

The doctor spoke a brief word of apology to Gerard and then ducked out of the room.

“Don’t mind her, Gerard,” Frank said, turning to Gerard and smiling at him with that familiar fondness in his eyes. “She doesn’t scare me.”

Gerard didn’t know what to say so he just picked up his piece of bread and started nibbling on it. He wasn’t worried about Frank being scared away by the doctor. Honestly, he was glad that he had a nurse fond of him enough to give him a little special attention, but he’d almost forgotten how eerie that smile could be when he looked at it too long. 

Frank’s was a strange happiness. A fragile happiness.

Gerard got the sense that Frank would only smile so long as he was pleased. The moment he was scorned or offended, his happiness would be readily—easily—replaced with wrath.


	3. Chapter 3

_3_

“They’re releasing Mr. Way tomorrow, did you hear?” Nurse Kaitlyn said, sitting down next to Frank in the hospital cafeteria event though she _knew_ how much Frank detested the company.

“No, I didn’t hear,” Frank said, his chest growing tighter and tighter by the second. Gerard was leaving? So soon? Frank hadn’t even had the chance to earn the other man’s trust yet… Sure, he’d gotten to give Gerard a healthy lunch and subsequently a healthy, vegetarian dinner, but that hardly put Frank in the other man’s favor.

“Yeah. He’s already got an appointment set up with one of the counselors so hopefully we won’t see him back anytime soon.”

“Right,” Frank said, staring down at his garden wrap, fighting tears. Gerard was leaving? So soon? He just couldn’t accept that. 

Gerard was perfect for him—absolutely perfect. He was brilliant and beautiful. He was delicate and creative, dedicated to his passions no matter how dark. Frank had already been by his apartment, got the building superintendent to let him in pretending that the hospital needed to collect medications. The man didn’t care—he didn’t even make Frank ask twice. ‘Lock the door when you leave’ was all he said. He left Frank alone then and Frank spent hours inside, looking at everything, sifting through drawings and notebooks. 

After reading the few pages in one of those notebooks—what appeared to be a diary of sorts—Frank knew Gerard was the one for him. The _one._ The _only_ one.

But once he left the hospital, Frank would never see him again. He could lose his job if he followed Gerard home. Gerard wouldn’t think it normal if Frank showed up with a healthy lunch. He would think Frank was mad—the way all of Frank’s worthless, cruel exes thought him mad.

“Are you alright?” Nurse Kaitlyn asked.

“I feel ill,” Frank said, closing up his lunch box and immediately withdrawing himself from the table. He kept his head ducked as he hurried to his hiding place, the stairwell leading up to the hospital’s fourth floor. 

The fourth floor used to be an isolation area for unruly residents of St. Agatha’s when it had been a women’s mental health facility. It wasn’t completely out of commission or closed off, but it was only used for office space (for three elderly women of the hospital’s billing department) and overflow rooming when the hospital beds were all full on the lower levels. The back stairwell was never busy and it gave Frank a place to rest and collect himself.

As soon as he sank down onto the cement stairs, he began to weep, hardly getting the chance to cover his face and muffle the sound. Gerard was going home—Frank was going to be all alone again with the worthless hospital staff. Sure every once in a while an attractive new intern would show up, but they were never worth Frank’s efforts and none of them had ever, _ever_ been as beautiful as Gerard. 

Frank wanted him. He wanted him so badly. 

He was beautiful and perfect and Frank _needed_ him. 

Frank’s shoulders shook as he cried, his hands trembling and starting to prickle. With each sob, more and more self-loathing settled in his chest. Maybe if he’d just brought Gerard a fat, cruel, unhealthy burger the man might like him more. Maybe if he kissed him more when he was sleeping or maybe once or twice when he was in that half-awake haze… Maybe he should’ve sucked him off more—maybe when he wasn’t so heavily sedated. Perhaps he could’ve allowed Gerard to wake up to it. 

Why, oh why did he have to fear the rejection? How could Gerard possibly hate him if he woke up to such pleasure? He would’ve seen Frank and known he was in good hands…

Or he’d be like the accident… The patient who started making threats. No drugs could calm him or change his mind. Frank lost it. He snapped. He didn’t want to snap on Gerard.

Gerard was too beautiful to die…

“Oh no… Have we lost a patient?” 

Frank gasped and lifted his head, startled and humiliated.

“Was it a patient?” the person asked again.

Frank turned to look over his shoulder where one of the elderly women stood, her hand lifted to her mouth.

“Yes,” Frank choked out, standing up and grabbing his lunchbox. “I’m losing a patient.” He hurried away, wiping his face and trying to hide his shame.

He went to the breakroom and put his lunchbox back in the fridge, not sure why he bothered because he knew he wouldn’t ever finish what meal he’d had inside. His appetite will have been spoiled for days after this. 

How could he eat when his heart was broken?

“Is everything okay?” 

“What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s Frank. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh… But he seems—”

Frank stormed back out of the room, refusing to hear the gossip—the whispered words of hatred—about him. 

He was practically running through the hallway until he collapsed against the wall outside of the pharmacy. The tears overwhelmed him again, his sobs so frantic the on-staff pharmacist stepped out of her booth and knelt down at his side. 

“Is everything alright?”

“I’m going to lose a patient,” Frank cried, an idea striking him even though his tears and hysteria. 

“I’m so sorry… I know that’s never easy. Can I get you something?—Some water?”

“A c-cup of coffee would be nice,” Frank cried, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“Alright. I’ll be right back. If anyone comes by, tell them I won’t be long.”

“Okay,” Frank said, keeping his head bowed and his knees drawn to his chest until the hallway was clear. He had two minutes tops to get what he needed and stow it in his pockets before the pharmacist came back. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard didn’t understand. He just _didn’t_ understand. One moment Nurse Kaitlyn had come in to wake him and tell him he’d be leaving tomorrow, then his stomach began to cramp so horribly and the breakfast he’d had ended up all over the floor. His body began to tremble and he was coated in a cold sweat as though he’d been dumped in a bath of ice water. He felt worse now than he had when he’d woken up the first time in the hospital—like he’d been poisoned all over again.

But the nurses ran test after test and everything came back negative. They didn’t know why he was sick, and he had to stay in the hospital racking up more and more medical bills until they could figure out why he was feeling so ill.

After three hours of tremors and nearly non-stop gagging, he was gripped by a terrible headache as if his skull were being crushed in a vice. The nurses would give him nothing but water, not even ibuprofen or aspirin to take the edge off. He was left completely helpless, lying curled on his side and crying like a child in pain.

He just didn’t understand how he could go from being healthy and ready for release to being back to this.

He’d wanted to _die._ He’d wanted to end his suffering. Now it was just being drawn out and he wished there were a way for him to kill himself here. 

“I came as soon as I heard! Oh, you poor thing. You poor, poor thing.”

Gerard groaned, recognizing the voice right away. He felt so torn—half hating the man’s presence and half loving it, knowing that if there was _anything_ he could be given at all—anything the other nurses or doctors didn’t want to give him—Frank would. 

“Roll over—you need to lie on your back. You’re pinch your IV. Here—let me help you.” Frank’s hands were all over him, making him roll onto his back even though it made the cramps rip through his stomach again. 

Gerard couldn’t help the scream that tore past his lips. It felt like his stomach was being sliced open and he started trembling again. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I looked over all of your results. I…I can’t see anything. All your levels are normal. I just don’t understand how this is happening.” Once Frank had him on his back, he started poking at Gerard’s hear monitor as though it could somehow give him insight into what was wrong in his patient’s stomach. “Oh, Gerard, I hate to see you in this much pain…”

“They won’t even give me aspirin,” Gerard said, looking up at Frank pitifully. 

“Have you asked them?” Frank asked, looking surprised. 

“Repeatedly. My head hurts—everything fuckin’ hurts.”

“I’ll get you something,” Frank said, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something right away. You poor thing. I don’t understand why they’re withholding the medications you need!”

“It’s like they _want_ me to suffer,” Gerard said.

It surprised him when Frank rolled his eyes—his first thought being that the nurse was now irritated with him. That he was offended Gerard would think the hospital staff had anything other than his best intentions in mind. 

“I’m not surprised at all about this. They _never_ have any pity for self-harm cases. _Never._ They don’t understand. They just don’t get it.” He looked angry, but he was focusing on the monitor, not looking Gerard in the face.

“Did you… I mean—sorry, it’s just…you seem kind of passionate—”

“Long ago,” Frank said, his words clipped. But as quickly as his anger had mounted, it dissipated and he turned to look at Gerard. “But that doesn’t matter now. You don’t need to worry about me. Let’s just get you better, alright?”

He reached over to stroke Gerard’s hair, his eyes soft and full of affection. His hands were warm and soothed the chills that had been running through Gerard’s body, and for the first time Gerard didn’t shy away from the touch. He felt comforted. He knew Frank would take care of him. 

“You try to relax. I’ll be back with something to help the pain. Do you need anything else? I’ll have water…”

“Maybe some bread? I’m nauseous, but I’m a little hungry.”

“Hm…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…if you’re hungry still, that could mean…maybe it’s not your stomach with the problems. If you had the flu or similar, you probably wouldn’t have much of an appetite.”

“I wouldn’t call it an appetite, I just—”

“I’ll bring you a bit of bread and maybe some pasta from the cafeteria,” Frank said, stroking Gerard’s hair again and then leaning down and pressing a kiss—an actual fucking kiss—onto Gerard’s forehead. “Try to relax. I’ll get you everything you need.”

He leaned back and smiled as though he hadn’t done anything wrong—as though Gerard weren’t staring at him in wide-eyed shock—and then backed toward the door, waving his hand a little in a wave goodbye. 

“I’ll be right back, Gerard. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

“I… I believe you,” Gerard said, trying to force a smile for the man. It wasn’t that he disliked Frank, but it just seemed so…uncalled for. He was trying to recover, he was trying to figure out why his stomach felt like it was being ripped out through his naval. He didn’t want petted and _kissed._ But Frank was at least kind, unlike the others. He was too affectionate, but he was at least considerate and trying to help. He cared when the other members of the hospital staff didn’t. 

All of a sudden, Frank’s face fell and his posture went a little limp.

“Gerard, I… I’m sorry if I’ve made you in some way uncomfortable. I-I…I’m so sorry. I just…I’m very fond of you, Gerard. I want you to get better and—”

“I-It’s fine,” Gerard said, starting to blush though he was unsure why. The guy was…odd. He was strange and his affection was misguided and unwanted, but he was kind—not to his peers but to Gerard at least. And the reason he hated his peers seemed to be because of their own lack of empathy when Frank felt pity for those patients his co-workers didn’t like. Gerard could respect that… 

Frank was kind instead of condescending. He tried to help in any way he could and maybe he was touching and kissing now because he thought Gerard was lonely and needed it. After all, he’d tried to commit suicide and being single and desperate had been a factor in it—not the whole reason, but at least a factor. Maybe Frank could sense that. Maybe that was why he touched and stayed so close.

Gerard’s defenses dropped as he repeated to Frank that it was okay and that he hadn’t made Gerard uncomfortable. Frank’s eyes just seemed to hold so much understanding and loneliness. Maybe he was like Gerard as well—once before, long ago, he’d said… 

But with how sad his eyes were, maybe it wasn’t that long ago at all. 

“You’re very kind, Gerard,” Frank said quietly. “Very…forgiving.”

“It’s…It’s nothing,” Gerard said, smiling awkwardly and then lifting a hand to rub his aching head.

“Let me get the medication for you.” Frank smiled again and backed out of the room, waving goodbye before he disappeared.

In his absence, Gerard let out a heavy sigh and grimaced as his stomach clenched again.


	4. Chapter 4

_4_

Frank crept into Gerard’s hospital room after clocking out. It was two in the morning and the nurse had already come to check the patient’s vitals. He’d gotten so sick since the day he was supposed to be released. Now he couldn’t even stand up on his own to use the restroom. He always needed support. All day he lie in bed and trembled, whimpering in pain from headaches and stomachaches.

The poor, poor thing.

Frank could barely stand to see how much he was suffering—but it was all for a good cause. Gerard wasn’t well enough to leave the hospital so soon. He needed more time to recover _emotionally. Mentally._ If he went home when he was supposed to, he would’ve just made another attempt. Frank couldn’t let that happen.

He was sad to see Gerard so ill, but he loved him so deeply. He couldn’t let him go home and die.

After the door closed behind him, Frank crept over to Gerard’s bed where he lie sleeping—heavily medicated to get him through the night. The drugs Frank gave him to keep him in the hospital’s care were lethal in high doses, but he’d already begun treating him for the overdose without the knowledge of the other staff. It took a lot of work to intercept Gerard’s bloodwork and medical screenings, to change the information on them to hide the presence of the drugs in his system, but Frank managed without getting caught. 

There was some talk about the missing drugs from the pharmacy—the ones Frank was stealing to help cure Gerard—but it was blamed on an ER intern who carelessly forgot to fill out the necessary paperwork and must’ve helped themselves to the pharmacy drugs while the pharmacist was out.

“Poor thing,” Frank whispered, caressing Gerard’s cheek. The man whimpered in his drug-induced stupor and turned his face away. “Don’t worry. I’d imagine that _tomorrow,_ you’ll feel so much better. I’ll come visit while you’re napping and give you your medicine, then I’ll bring your lunch. How does that sound, Gerard?” 

Frank knew the man couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. It was nice to speak to Gerard. It was nice to simply be in his presence. 

“Maybe I’ll bring you a fresh salad… Some fruit in it maybe. Would you like walnut and raspberries, or kale and pear?” Frank sat for a moment, deciding which his new friend might like the most. “You’d probably like the raspberries better, wouldn’t you? Kale’s probably too much for you. I think I’ll mix spinach and lettuce for you for now. Get you used to eating healthy… Would you like that?” 

Of course, Gerard didn’t reply. He did, however, furrow his brow as the pain in his abdomen got to him, even though his sleepy haze. 

“Poor thing,” Frank whispered, unable to feel guilty for causing the pain but sad to see him suffer. “Here, darling. Let me help.”

Frank slowly pulled away Gerard’s blanket and climbed over top of him. He straddled the sleeping patient’s hips for a while before leaning down and kissing him softly on the mouth. Gerard whimpered in his sleep, parting his lips and allowing Frank’s tongue inside. He wished Gerard would kiss back. He dreamed of the day Gerard might touch him in return and show him the love he wanted so badly. Frank swore that if Gerard would entertain his affections for one day—just one day—he’d prove himself worthy of the patient’s trust and love. He kissed his way down Gerard’s neck and gently sucked at his collarbone, knowing he couldn’t leave a mark but finding it hard to pull his mouth away from the smooth flesh. 

He worked his way down Gerard’s body and slowly pushed up his hospital gown. Because of the sedatives, the nurses had him on catheter to prevent him from soiling the sheets. Gerard’s entire body jerked when Frank pulled out the small tube, but the medication kept him under and in very little time, Frank had stroked him to hardness.

He smiled and leaned up to give Gerard a kiss as he worked his hand up and down the sleeping man’s erection. He could see Gerard’s eyes flicking back and forth under their heavy lids—his mind trying to make sense of the pleasure and turning it into dreams. Sweet dreams, Frank hoped. Sweet dreams about himself. About himself and Gerard.

Frank moved further back on the bed and bowed down, sucking Gerard’s length into his mouth and moaning softly at his taste—his smell. Everything about him. The smoothness of his skin against Frank’s tongue, the way the ridges around the tip felt against Frank’s lips…how the slit felt against the tip of Frank’s tongue. 

He wished he could get more sounds from Gerard than little sighs and loud breaths. Maybe someday. Maybe someday soon he could get Gerard all to himself, in a real bed and not the hospital’s cold, hard slab of a mattress. 

To have Gerard in his own home…to have Gerard in his bed, that would be a dream come true. 

Frank took more of Gerard’s length into his mouth and let his eyes slip closed, feeding into his daydream. How lovely would it be to have Gerard in his bed? How lovely would it be to take care of all his needs?—not just sex but love and affection, food and bathing even! Frank would do anything for Gerard to make him happy, to make him stay. 

Anything.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard woke up trembling, shaken by the awful dream he’d had. The nurse, Frank—the one who was on his way to bring Gerard another “healthy” lunch—had been in the nightmare. He’d been at the foot of Gerard’s bed, sucking him off. In the dream—in the waking nightmare—Gerard had woken up and asked him what he was doing, too scared and confused to be angry.

“I’m taking care of you,” Frank had said, then continued his work as if nothing had happened until Gerard came. 

The dream was brief and Gerard’s memory of it ended shortly after. The last thing he remembered was Frank saying something odd—something so unrealistic that it had to be the product of his own imagination. The words were distorted in Gerard’s memory, warped the way dreams tended to be after waking. It was something along the lines of “Don’t worry, we at St. Agatha’s do everything in our power to make our patients better. Don’t _you_ feel better, Gerard?”

Only Gerard didn’t feel better. He felt sick. He was terrified of Frank in that dream, and he couldn’t even shake the feeling once he’d woken up. His imagination was obviously twisting together how odd Frank behaved with the small feelings Gerard was beginning to develop for the overly affectionate nurse.

Something about the man’s demeanor was off-putting, but Gerard just felt _better_ whenever Frank was around. After all, Frank was the only one who would give him medication to help with his pain, and the food he brought was so much better than the cardboard the hospital called a meal. Even the salads Frank brought were enjoyable and he was curious as to what Frank would bring today even though he was anxious about seeing the nurse again. 

It took nearly half an hour for him to get the tremors to stop, even after he rationalized how it was impossible for Frank to have been in his room the night before—no matter how real the dream had felt. The nurse who came to check on him when he awoke told him Frank had gone home at midnight—that his nurse had watched him leave. 

That nurse, the strict and less than friendly Nurse Hanworth, then asked if there was a reason Gerard was so concerned about Frank. Gerard, for whatever reason, lied and said no. 

“He gets too friendly with patients. Especially self-harm patients,” she said, no empathy or shame at all in blurting out why Gerard was in the hospital, as if she wanted to remind him of why he was here. 

“Why does he care so much about suicidal people?” Gerard asked, trying to act as though he was unbothered by her coldness.

“I’m his co-worker, not his therapist, Mr. Way. If he makes you uncomfortable, I can give you a form to fill out for our administrative staff. You wouldn’t be the first to make a complaint either,” the nurse mumbled as she’d marked something down on her clipboard. 

“Why do people complain?” Gerard asked, trying to learn anything he could about his nurse.

“He make the patients uncomfortable,” the nurse said. “Is there anything you need, Mr. Way? My shift is ending and Frank is going to be in soon.”

“But he worked until midnight last night,” Gerard said. “Why is he coming in now?” Gerard asked. It was ten a.m. Did Frank ever have a day off? A _night_ off?

“We’re short staffed and he wants the hours.”

“Doesn’t he ever sleep?” Gerard asked.

“I’m starting to think you’re as interested in Frank as he is in you,” Nurse Hanworth said. Her tone was hard and cold whereas another nurse—a kind one—might’ve said it in jest or with a wink. That was the last thing she said to him before she left, leaving Gerard feeling embarrassed an uncomfortable. When Frank finally did arrive—and with a salad like he’d promised the day before—Gerard wasn’t exactly happy to see him like he typically was. 

His head hurt, his stomach hurt, and he was tired and humiliated. The last thing he wanted was the other nurses seeing Frank taking an interest in him and making it out to be some sort of gossip. He didn’t want talked about. He wanted to go home and forget this whole embarrassing mess. 

“I brought you a walnut raspberry salad today. It’s good. I even brought you dressing.” Frank sat down on the bed as he handed the plastic container to Gerard. 

“Thanks,” Gerard said, trying to force a smile and shake the images from his nightmare. 

“Are you okay? You seem upset about something.”

“It’s not that,” Gerard said, looking down at the salad Frank brought him.

It was such a small gesture, yet so kind—bringing him food so he didn’t have to eat what the hospital provided. Frank didn’t have to do it. He could be like Nurse Hanworth who treated him with cold indifference and practically mocked him for being pathetic enough to attempt suicide.

Her eyes were so critical and unfeeling. Frank’s…they were warm. They were full of empathy and worry. He _cared_ about Gerard. Maybe he cared more about Gerard than a nurse really should. That would explain all the extra attention, the meals and kindness. If Frank _liked_ him…that would explain it all.

“Gerard?”

Frank was staring at him and Gerard quickly shook his head. 

“It’s nothing. Really. I just… Sorry.” Gerard laughed softly, uncomfortably, and ducked his head. 

“Did… Did I do something?” Frank asked, standing up from the bed and fidgeting. “It’s the meals isn’t it? I’m doing too much for you, aren’t I? I’ve made you uncomfortable. Oh no.” Frank started shaking—actually _trembling_ —and wrung his hands together as he started pacing back and forth. 

“N-No—please. It’s not that,” Gerard insisted. 

“You don’t have to lie,” Frank whispered, pulling his hair and chewing his lip as he paced back and forth. “I… I’ve done it again, haven’t I?”

“No. You haven’t done anything. It’s—It’s okay!”

“No… No, it’s not,” Frank said, lowering his hands and shaking his head in defeat. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. I—”

“No! Really. It wasn’t you, it—it was Nurse Hanworth. The bitchy one? She…she said some things that weren’t so…nice.”

Immediately, Frank’s demeanor changed. He stopped pacing and his face lost its panicked expression. Instead, he now looked angry. Bitter. 

He looked offended on Gerard’s behalf.

“What did she say to you?” He asked, returning to his seat on Gerard’s bed and leaning in, placing one hand on the mattress on the other side of Gerard’s legs—leaning over him. 

“It—”

“You know, she’s _never_ had any patience with self-harm cases. Never. She shouldn’t have a job here if she’s not going to be polite to _all_ of our patients. I’ll get her fired. I’ll have her out of here tonight. Just tell me what she said to you, Darling. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. You have so much stress already. You don’t need her making it worse for you.”

Gerard’s mind went blank, his eyes stuck open wide. Darling? Frank had just called him _darling_ and he didn’t even seem to notice it.

“You don’t have to protect her. She doesn’t deserve this job if she’s mistreating you.”

“Frank, i-it’s… No, I… I-I…” Gerard swallowed hard, his stomachache returning full-force. “Frank, please. I-I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Gerard, you’re _never_ trouble. Not for me. You’re my…my best patient. I want you to be happy here and if she…” Frank trailed off, his eyes suddenly narrowing—his breathing becoming heavy with rage. 

“Frank?” Gerard whispered, leaning back, desperate to get away.

“I get it,” Frank said, pulling his arm back from across Gerard’s lap.

“Wh-what?” Gerard stammered, praying the hostility in Frank’s eyes wasn’t directed at him.

“You—You got sick _right_ when you were about to be released. I… I thought we just missed something or stopped your medication too soon but now…”

“What?” Gerard asked, his heart starting to pound in his chest. He didn’t know if Frank was still mad at Nurse Hanworth or if he’d had a sudden epiphany about Gerard’s relapse. “What, Frank?”

“She…she _poisoned_ you. She—She had to have! You were getting better—you were ready to be released and then…” Frank stood up from the bed quickly and returned to pacing. “I can’t believe this. She _hates_ self-harm patients. She…she tried to kill you. I…I’m sorry. I wanted to eat with you, but I have to go to the director. We—We need to get more tests.” 

Gerard stared in shock as Frank hurried from the room. The container holding his salad sat forgotten and unwanted in his lap, his appetite gone as the terror struck him. He’d nearly been murdered.

That was what Frank had said. 

Nurse Hanworth had poisoned him, wanting to finish the job Gerard had begun on her own terms—and not out of mercy or empathy. She wanted to end him in what seemed to be the most painful way possible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very short and I am sorry for that.

_5_

Frank was shaking, not sure if it was residual anxiety or excitement. He didn’t think that was real. It couldn’t be real. There was no way he’d gotten away with it…

There were so many little flaws in his story that he felt were obvious, yet no one had seemed to pick up on them.

“I really just can’t believe it,” Nurse Kaitlyn said. She was sitting next to Frank in the cafeteria, rubbing his shoulder to comfort him—thinking him distressed for the same reason as the rest of the staff. 

He’d gotten Nurse Hanworth dismissed. The hospital couldn’t prove that she’d been the one who poisoned Gerard, but the allegations stirred up so many questions—like why did all the self-harm patients she cared for in the past get sick in a similar way? Why did the medications only go missing during her shifts? 

Nurse Hanworth pointed out immediately that the medications went missing whenever Frank worked as well—and that many of their shifts overlapped. She also tacked on how inappropriate Frank was with his patients, but for some reason the director didn’t take her side. To the board, Frank looked innocent. Maybe he did get too close to his patients, but that was better than poisoning them out of spite.

“Are you okay, Frank?” Kaitlyn asked. “I know you and Mr. Way have gotten close since he’s been here—especially since he got sick again.”

“I… I can’t understand why she’d want to hurt him. He’s so kind and he doesn’t cause any trouble. He’s a _good_ patient. Why would she poison him?”

“I don’t know,” Nurse Kaitlyn said, daring to lean over and hug him. She was one of the few nurses on staff who still liked him. After all, she’d only joined the hospital at the start of the year. For now, she was on Frank’s good side even though he was occasionally harsher with her than he should be. “He’ll get better now, though. You’re taking _good_ care of him. I noticed it this morning when I was changing his IV and you brought him that oatmeal for breakfast. His eyes light up when you come in the room.”

“Really?” Frank asked, his nerves settling the slightest bit at the idea. He could never tell if Gerard was excited to see him or not. To Frank, everyone looked indifferent or fearful or angry. To hear from Nurse Kaitlyn that Gerard was happy to see him…that just made his day. It was better than getting Nurse Bitch fired. 

Gerard liked him.

Gerard liked him back.

If he played all of his cards right, Gerard could be his in a matter of weeks. 

“I wouldn’t make these things up,” Nurse Kaitlyn said. “You know, a lot of patients would probably be suspicious about how involved you get, but Mr. Way seems to really appreciate it. You know…” She let out a soft little giggle and leaned back, breaking off her long embrace. “I don’t think it’d be a stretch to say Mr. Way’s got a bit of a crush on you.”

“N-no, I… I don’t think that he does,” Frank said, trying to fight the grin coming to his lips. Oh how he wished that were true. What he wouldn’t give to have all of Gerard’s love and affection.

“Suit yourself,” Nurse Kaitlyn said, shrugging. “I have to clock back in, so I’ll see you upstairs, okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, nodding but keeping his eyes focused on the table. 

Gerard liked him, she said. All of his efforts were working in his favor. Gerard wasn’t disturbed by him, upset by him… Gerard didn’t hate him. Gerard liked him. Gerard _liked_ him.

All of the negative, uneasy feelings Frank had had left him in place of giddy euphoria. 

Everything was going according to plan.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank sat on the edge of Gerard’s bed, petting his hair as he slept. It was early evening and the man was just napping, not medicated and no longer poisoned. He would be better in no time at all—and he told Gerard that so many times as he slept and stroked his long, black hair. 

“We’ll get you well and out of here real soon, Gerard. I promise. You’ll be better than ever… I’ll make sure you don’t relapse. I’ll stop by every day if I have to. I can’t lose you. You’re so—”

“Um…what are you doing?”

Frank’s head jerked up and he pulled his hand away from Gerard when he heard the voice ring out from behind him. 

Standing in the doorway was another man—Gerard’s brother—glowering at Frank in confusion. 

“Are you _fondling_ my brother?” the man snapped.

Frank got to his feet, mind racing as he thought of an excuse—a convincing lie to explain why he’d have his hand in a patient’s hair, or why he would be sitting on his bed. All Frank could do was stand up and be loud about it—wake Gerard and have his beloved patient defend him. 

The backs of his knees hit the bed and that was what roused Gerard who moaned and started sitting up.

“What’s happening? Frank?” When Gerard called to him, Frank was able to justify turning his back to the man at the door and could return to what he was meant to be doing—checking vitals, recording changes, waking his patient and administering his medications.

“You have a visitor, Mr. Way. I’ll leave you two alone for now, but I’ll be back after a bit with your dinner.”

“Huh? You don’t have to call me by my last name—we’re friends.”

“Well…it’s not appropriate hospital etiquette,” Frank whispered, straightening Gerard’s bed sheets and then hurrying past Gerard’s brother and out of the room. 

“Mikey, did you say something to him?” Frank heard Gerard say.

“Gerard, he was _fondling_ you in your sleep. I saw it!”

Frank’s hear started pounding in his ears as he hid outside the door, listening. It wasn’t the first time he’d been caught getting too close, but he didn’t want written up for it. The last times he’d been caught by other nurses—never a relative. Never, ever a relative.

“What are you talking about?” Gerard asked, sounding sleepy but also a little alarmed. 

“He was sitting on your bed, _petting_ you,” his brother insisted.

Frank took in a shaking breath and swallowed hard, fighting the need to vomit that quickly overwhelmed him. He was shaking and couldn’t stop it—terrified.

“Petting me? Wh-where?” Gerard asked, sounding a little fearful.

“Your _hair,_ Gerard! He was sitting there petting you like an animal,” his brother said, voice growing louder with passion. 

“Really?” Gerard asked. His tone was so far away from what Frank was expecting. He almost sounded intrigued. Happy…

“Oh, God,” his brother growled. 

“What?”

“I know that look. I can’t believe you,” his brother said.

Frank took a deep breath and peeked into the room, making sure to keep his face hidden as much as he could. He could see Gerard sitting up in the bed, not exactly smiling but looking close to cheerful.

“What look?” Gerard asked, looking up at his brother.

“That look—you like him, don’t you?” His brother’s tone was very accusing and unfriendly. 

“He’s _nice_ to me, Mikey. That other nurse tried to kill me and he’s the one who figured it out!” Gerard argued. 

“This who hospital needs a lawsuit if you ask me. You have one nurse poisoning you and another touching you in your sleep.”

Frank pulled back and swallowed hard. He squeezed his eyes closed, willing the nausea to go away. Gerard was going to protect him. Gerard wasn’t going to let his brother file a complaint. He just had to tell himself that over and over in hopes that it would make his anxiety stop.

He’d never be able to sleep tonight if this wasn’t resolved. He’d never sleep again…

“Mikey… He’s nice to me. I…I don’t mind if he’s just…messing with my hair when I sleep. I-I like him, h-he—”

“Gerard, you are in the _hospital._ You almost _died._ You don’t need some pervert touching you when you’re trying to sleep!”

“I’m in here because I was _lonely!_ I’m not lonely here. He buys me lunches and dinners…he’s the one who figured out who was poisoning me. Frank’s the only one who gives a shit about me—”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh really? Where were you when I called? I tried calling you all week and you never answered. Never.”

“My phone was out of service, Gerard! I told you that! You could’ve emailed me or called Mom. Jesus Christ—don’t put _this_ on me.”

“Then don’t start running your mouth about filing a lawsuit against Frank or the hospital. They’re already covering my bills because of what happened with that psycho. Don’t make trouble.”

“Fine. I just don’t want you being taken advantage of by some creepy nurse.”

“He’s not creepy,” Gerard said. “I… I like him and…I guess he likes me to.”

“What, are you gonna fuckin’ ask him out now? Start dating your nurse?—Like some fucking Florence Nightingale dating service?”

Frank sighed and pulled away from the wall. Gerard’s brother was opposed to the idea, but at least Frank knew now that Gerard had feelings for him, too. He wasn’t in this alone like he had been so many times with so many other patients and the occasional store clerk. 

He wasn’t alone anymore.

Gerard was going to be his.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the last one--the next chapter is where the plot REALLY kicks off.

_6_

Frank was sorry he had to do it… Very sorry. He often didn’t feel pity for his loved ones because of the things he needed to do, but for Gerard he did. 

They were about to release him and Gerard was far too excited about it. He was telling Frank, in all his excited glee, about his newfound passion for life. He was going to go to the café every Tuesday and Thursday night and listen to the live music and readings on the designated open mic nights. He was going to write more—set aside an hour or two each day where he was alone with his writings—and draw more. 

He’d make use of a new therapist the doctors had set up for him outside the hospital, and if he ever got that low again, he told Frank, he would be sure to call Mikey.

Had he said he would be sure to call Frank, call his nurse—call the one who loved and cared for him most—Frank wouldn’t have had to make him ill again. It was a cold, sick feeling that took over him that night. Gerard was getting better and that meant he had no use for his nurse, no use for the man he’d told Mikey he liked so well.

Frank just couldn’t allow himself to be forgotten that easily. He loved Gerard so dearly, so desperately. He cared so much for him and his health—having him leave and go back to his apartment alone was not the way for him to stay healthy. 

Frank had no choice. 

No choice at all.

Gerard was sleeping when Frank administered the combination of drugs. No one was going to check his blood work—no one would expect his hysteria to be drug induced, especially not when Frank would be there to offer comfort and consolation. He would reassure everyone that Gerard was scared to go home—that his anxiety was returning and he just wasn’t ready to go home, that the thought of going home terrified him into a psychotic break complete with hallucinations, tremors, and cold sweats. He would be desperate for comfort and Frank would be there to give him all he needed—all the hair petting, shushing, and even kisses once the other nurses left the area. 

Gerard would be frightened and complacent. Frank would make sure Gerard needed him and knew he needed him and no one else. 

Frank looked around the room before sticking the needles one after the other into his IV and administering the drugs. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard woke up to a sharp pain in his chest. It was a burning, aching feeling like he’d swallowed fire and it was trying to burn its way through his ribcage to reach the air. His room was pitch black and all he could hear was the loud, rapid beeping of his heart monitor. It was louder and louder until it became all he could hear—one loud, drawn out screech that felt like a knife through his skull. 

He tried to cry out from the pain, but no sound came out—none that he could hear anyway. Instead, it was as if the heart monitor grew louder, disguising his screams as the agony and fear ripped through him.

“Poisoned!” He heard—not sure if he was being spoken in his head or outside the room. It sounded so far away under the screech of the heart monitor. “He’s been poisoned!”

If someone was screaming for him, that meant someone would come soon, right?

That was the only peace Gerard could find as the pain coursed through his veins—only on one came into his room. The room stayed dark, stained black, as the torture dragged on and on and on.

He tried to scream for help, but all he could hear as a raspy gasp for air. Gerard started sobbing as he lifted his hands, going to cover his ears to drown out the loud ringing. When his hands touched his face, however, he noticed his hands were wet—soaking wet.

“Killed. Killed. He’s been killed!” It was that distant voice again and it scared him so much because he didn’t know if it was real or part of his imagination. 

Dead? Was he really dead?

Gerard started crying harder, finding it more and more difficult by the second to pull in a breath. 

“He’s dying!”

“Good. Good riddance, if you ask me.”

“Oh, I know! He’s nothing but trouble. Just trouble!”

“I hope he suffers.”

“Suffers!”

_“Suffers!”_

Gerard tried screaming again, only this time he knew no sound came out. His throat had tightened too much and even crying was starting to hurt.

“Gerard? Oh my god! Jeanine!—Jeanine, bring a cart!”

All of a sudden the room was lit up with burning, bright lights and Gerard felt hands all around him—two on his arms, pulling them away from his face as he tried to shield is eyes from the light, two on his head, yanking back his hair, countless hands all around him, touching, pinching, pulling, _scratching._

“Gerard—Gerard, shhh. Calm down. It’s alright! It’s alright, Gerard. Shh. What have you done to yourself?”

“F-Frank?” Gerard asked, opening his eyes a crack and trying to make sense of the blurs and smears before him. 

“Yes. It’s me. I’m here. What have you done?” His voice sounded distorted, the tone shifting rapidly deeper and deeper. 

“My head hurts,” Gerard whimpered, crying out as the hand in his hair started pulling. “Th-there’s so many people. F-Frank, what’s happening?”

There was a loud crash, followed by more horrifying screeching—a higher pitch than the heart monitor.

“What did you do to yourself, Mr. Way?” Came another voice, this one genderless and so slow Gerard could barely understand the words.

“He’s ripped his arms open,” Frank said.

“Wh-what? N-No I didn’t!” Gerard called, forcing his eyes to remain open despite the burning pain in order to look down at his arms. 

Everything was stained red—his hands, his arms, his bed sheets and blankets, _everything._

“F-Frank!” Gerard screamed. 

“It’s okay, Gerard. We’re going to fix it. Just relax, okay? It’s okay. I’m here now. We’re going to help.”

Gerard’s arms were pulled away from the security of his chest and something cold and wet was being run across his skin. It felt like cloths, but when he looked down, his arms were being held by thick ropes and blue-black tongue was running along his slashed up wrists, lapping up the blood.

“Frank!” Gerard screamed, frantically trying to pull away.

“It’s okay—she’s helping, Gerard. She’s washing you up. We’ve gotta get the blood off you, okay?” Frank said. He was the only thing in the room that made sense. Everything else was melting or flickering or covered in static.

“I’m dying! I’m _dying!_ ”

“No—No, Gerard. You’re going to be okay. I know there’s a lot of blood, but it’s going to be fine.”

Gerard stared down at his arms, watching as the tongue lapped up his blood—trying so hard to be calm just for Frank.

“Frank, can you get the disinfectant?” The other voice asked.

“Gerard, I’m going to let go of your hands, okay? Don’t try to take your arm away, alright? We have to get your arms cleaned up.”

Gerard nodded and pulled held his arms still as Frank pushed aside that awful, bluish tongue. 

The colors of Frank’s hands flickered as he started spraying a rainbow colored mist over his arm. That glistening rain suddenly started to burn and sting.

He let out a loud scream and tried to pull away, but the ropes on his arms prevented him from getting away. All he could do was lie there and scream—and scream and scream. 

“Shh. Oh, please, Gerard—please. It’s okay. It’s going to stop. We just need to get the wounds clean. It’ll only take a second.”

Gerard wept and threw his head back on the pillow over and over, screaming from pain and fear. He felt something tight being wrapped around his wrists and hands.

“Mr. Way, can you tell me what happened?” Came that other voice. When he looked up, there was a skull staring down at him—a rotting skull with burning red eyes. All Gerard could do was stare and scream, knowing this was death—death was coming for him and he had nowhere to run.

“He’s in some kind of psychosis,” Frank said. “I don’t understand… He was _fine._ This morning. He was happy to be going home…”

“Maybe he’s just not ready for it, Frank. I don’t know… This is serious and I _know_ no one’s been in his room since seven.”

“F-Frank, help me,” Gerard cried. 

“He’s going to need to be transferred to the psych hospital. He’s a _danger_ to himself,” the other voice muttered. “We can’t deal with him here.”

“He’s wasting away in here,” Frank said. “He doesn’t need a hospital, he needs…he needs _homecare._ Do you think anyone in his family could work as a caregiver? He needs to feel important—he needs attention. That’s what all this is. It’s a cry for help.”

“He’s neurotic.”

“He needs homecare—we have to talk to the director. I don’t want him going to a psych ward.”

“Oh, Frank… You can’t save everyone. Some patients—”

“Gerard isn’t _some patient!_ He’s a human being. Do you see what’s happening here? He’s sick and what we’re doing for him isn’t helping. It’s our job to help people—I want to help him.”

Gerard lay there listening, crying in pain and shaking harder by the second. He was scared. He was so fucking scared

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey didn’t like any of this. As soon as he’d learned that someone at the hospital had poisoned his brother, he’d wanted Gerard transferred. It was hard to get Gerard to consent to that, however, when all of his medical expenses at St. Agatha’s were being taken care of after the scandal—not to mention his infatuation with his overly involved nurse.

It just seemed so suspicious to Mikey. Gerard was about to be released when that other nurse had purportedly started poisoning him. This time, he was about to be released again when he suddenly “slipped” into a psychosis and scratched his arms open in a psychotic fit. 

When he visited Gerard that next morning, his brother’s arms were strapped to the bed and he was stuck there, trapped, crying and sweating—whimpering about being cold and thirsty. 

And who showed up the moment Gerard mentioned his thirst?—Nurse Iero, with a cup of water. He undid Gerard’s restraints—but told him not to tell anyone with a wink—and handed him the cup of water. 

As Gerard gulped down the water, Nurse Iero told Mikey the hospital’s decisions about what was to be done with Gerard. Either he could be sent to a mental health facility until it was guaranteed that his psychosis had broken and his suicidal tendencies could be managed, or he could receive complimentary homecare from the hospital coupled with counseling services. A member of the hospital’s staff would be by every day to check on Gerard, help prepare his meals, administer medications, set up appointments—anything and everything Gerard could ever need. 

“And let me guess, that healthcare worker is going to be you,” Mikey asked.

“Well…It could be,” Nurse Iero said, smiling fondly down at Gerard. “I used to be a home health aide before I began work at St. Agatha’s. Usually for the elderly and disabled, but…I don’t think Gerard would be so dependent. He just needs a little extra help adjusting to being on his own again.”

“He could come stay with me,” Mikey said.

“Yes, but it’s hard on a patient to not feel a sense of…abandonment when the person they’ve come to rely on has gone to work.”

“So what happens when you leave?” Mikey had asked, not even bothering to hide his irritation. 

“I am always a phone call away. His needs are my job. I may have other patients to tend to, but as a third level homecare worker for St. Agatha’s, I’m on call twenty-four seven. Anytime Gerard needs me, I’ll be there.”

He smiled at Gerard, and then stoked his hair and took the empty cup away to refill it.

“Gerard, is this what you want?—Do you really want that creep in your apartment?” Mikey asked.

“He’s nice, Mikey… I don’t know what’s happening with me, but he makes it go away.”

“Or maybe he’s causing it. Gerard, you’re so dependent on this guy you can’t even see what he’s doing to you.”

“I thought I was fine to leave this place, then I just…snapped. I woke up covered in blood and hallucinating. He’s the only person at this whole hospital that I can _tell_ cares about me. When my doctor asked how I felt about home health care, the first person I thought of was Frank. I picked him… I feel _better_ with him. Don’t you get that?”

Mikey couldn’t bear to argue with him. Gerard looked so…messed up, so small in that hospital bed covered in gauze and blankets. It did no use to argue—Nurse Iero returned with another cup of water and Gerard’s attention shifted to him.

Mikey didn’t like any of this…


	7. Chapter 7

_7_

Gerard’s face burned with embarrassment as he led Frank into his apartment. Immediately, a strong smell struck his nose and when he glanced at his hospital appointed home health aide, he saw that Frank was shuddering in disgust. 

“I… I don’t know what that is,” Gerard confessed.

“Something in your trash perhaps?” Frank asked, slowly regaining his composure as he followed Gerard into the cramped space. 

“Mikey said…” Gerard groaned in disgust as he neared his kitchen—the smell getting even worse. “Mikey said he’d look after the place.”

“He must’ve forgotten,” Frank said. He pursed his lips a bit when he and Gerard discovered the source of the foul smell—a stack of dishes stewing in the kitchen sink. The faucet had a tendency to drip, a small issue that never caused any problems. Except weeks of dripping going unchecked with a plate (or ten) covering the drain had caused the sink to fill with water. It wasn’t enough to spill over, but it allowed a film of mold to grow over the dishes.

“This is… I’m sorry; this is disgusting,” Gerard said, shaking his head as he stared in mortification at the filthy sink. 

“It’s… It’s sad you can’t even count on your own brother to help look after your home,” Frank said, shaking his head. He looked irritated—probably angry that it was supposed to be his job to clean that filthy sink—and that just made Gerard feel even worse. 

“He probably just forgot,” Gerard whispered.

“He knew you were getting home today. He couldn’t have come to check on the place to make sure it was okay for when you got here?” Frank asked, locking his eyes with Gerard. They were burning with a harsh intensity. He looked angry—not at Gerard, but on Gerard’s behalf. “How hard is it to wash a few dishes? Honestly…” 

Frank shook his head and started for the sink, rolling up the white sleeves covering his arms under his light-blue scrubs. 

“No—No, Frank, you don’t have to do that. It-It’s my mess,” Gerard said, hurrying to grab Frank’s sleeve before he could draw any closer to the foul sink.

“And it’s _my job_ to clean it. Don’t worry,” Frank said, his voice firm yet somehow kind. “Please. You need to go…maybe change the sheets on your bed. Or take a shower. It’ll feel a lot better showering in your own place than it does at the hospital.”

“Having water pressure would be nice,” Gerard said, burning with shame as he watched Frank reach into the sink to lift the plates off the drain.

“Go,” Frank said, turning to Gerard and smiling as the drain gurgled loudly—the moldy water making its way to the sewer. “I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, bowing his head as he left the kitchen and crept into his bedroom. It had been so long since he was home, but everything was as he’d left it. His clothes were still piled on the floor, his clean clothes piled on top of his dresser—covering his useless clutter. 

Had he died, he would’ve left his family with an awful mess, Gerard thought as he gathered a clean outfit to change into after his shower. He began to feel more ashamed the longer he stared at the mess that was his bedroom. 

He was so pathetic he couldn’t even take care of himself. So useless he would end his own life ad not only leave behind his body, but essentially a trashed apartment as well for his family to clean up. Gerard felt completely mortified at his behavior, slipping easily back into the pattern of self-loathing that had left him in the hospital to begin with.

Frank shouldn’t have to be washing his molding, reeking dishes, even if he appeared happy to do it. Frank shouldn’t even have to be in Gerard’s life… 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank made quick work of the dishes, trying hard not to think about the foul smell or the disgusting germs swirling around his hands—crawling under his nails, under his skin, into his bloodstream. In some ways, that foul sink was worse than the sickest of patients—worse than being bled on or puked on. Gerard had only been in the shower ten minutes by the time Frank finished the dishes and set to scrubbing the sink with the only soap he could find. 

He added bleach, rubber gloves, and scrubbing pads to his mental list of items to buy for Gerard’s apartment—on the hospital’s dime of course. Once the sink was scrubbed clean, Frank knew his next step should be to wash the counter and check for roaches or ants, but he couldn’t resist the impulse to explore the apartment while Gerard was in the shower—out of the way.

Frank dried his hands on a paper towel and tossed it into the nearly empty rubbish bin, then hurried into Gerard’s bedroom. The man had clothes strewn everywhere—no way to tell what was dirty or clean. His bed was messy and unmade, a pair of pants tossed over one end. 

Frank was tempted to start picking up the clothes, but didn’t want to let on that he was snooping. He kept an ear out for the shower and continued looking through the bedroom. There were albums framed and hanging on the wall, some with ticket stubs tucked into a corner of the frames. There were drawings scattered all over the place—on his end table, on the floor, under his clothes on the dresser. His drawers were an unorganized mess, meaning he wouldn’t notice if Frank slipped a wadded up pair of his boxer briefs into his pocket and took them from the apartment—for a reference, of course, of the other man’s size and preference because it was obvious the man needed some newer, cleaner clothes and only Frank would have the time to go buy them.

Frank had just reached the last drawer of Gerard’s dresser, not yet making it to the end table beside his bed, when the shower clipped off in the next room. Sighing, Frank abandoned his search and retreated to the kitchen to begin scrubbing the counter. 

Disinfectant wipes, Frank added to his mental shopping list. And an air freshener—though he didn’t know if the hospital would cover that sort of purchase. They might, though…considering one of their employees had tried to kill Gerard and they didn’t want a multi-million dollar lawsuit.

Frank would be sure to mention that if his purchases on the hospital charge card were brought into question. 

“Frank?”

At the mention of his name, the nurse turned toward the doorway with a soft smile, continuing to scrub the counter. 

“I… I really do appreciate you helping me out,” Gerard said. He was standing there, fluffing his hair with a dark blue towel—his cheeks flushed pink from the heat of his shower. “Not…not just here, but at the hospital to. I really don’t think I would’ve gotten this far without your support.”

Frank felt his cheeks start burning and looked back down at the counter as he scrubbed away the stains and layers of grimy coffee grounds. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable; I just wanted you to know…it means a lot to me and…and I know you probably treat all patients that way and…and that’s _good._ It’s really good, but… I’m rambling. I’m sorry; I just wanted you to know I appreciate what you’ve done for me.” Gerard bowed his head, looking small and ashamed. 

“Gerard…” Frank set the cloth he’d been using aside and stepped over to the sink, washing his hands with dish soap quickly before stepping toward the other man. “I… I think you should know that I volunteered to be your aide. I don’t treat all of my patients the way that I do you… You’re a very—a very special person to me. I know I shouldn’t say such things, but I don’t care. I’ve grown very fond of you since we met in the hospital, so please don’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. I’m here as your friend. I want you to get better.”

Gerard stammered a moment, but words seemed to escape him as he ducked his head again, the towel hanging limp in his hand—dangling close to the dirty floor. 

“It breaks my heart that your brother couldn’t even be bothered to come clean up even a little bit. This is not what you needed to come home to,” Frank said, gesturing to the now mostly clean kitchen. “I… Honestly, I’m afraid to leave you like this. I don’t want anything to happen.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Gerard whispered. 

“I’m supposed to leave at three, but would it be alright if I stayed a little later? I want to get…everything picked up and make sure you get a good dinner. Would that be alright? I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I need to know you’ll be okay when I leave or I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“If you want to stay, that’s fine,” Gerard said, finally looking up. He looked relieved—he looked happy. 

He wasn’t ready to be on his own and it made Frank feel just a small bit guilty to see his work paying off. Gerard wasn’t okay to be alone. That meant there was room in his life for Frank to slip inside, a space he could occupy—dwell in. 

“B-But if you stay, please let me help you clean up. It—It would make me feel better. I can’t stand seeing you breaking your back dealing with this disgusting place.”

“Gerard…” Frank said, his tone a little too harsh. He sighed and shook his head, then took a step closer, making his tone gentler. “Gerard, please listen to me. It’s my _job_ to take care of you—your apartment I mean. It’s my job to make sure everything is clean. If you want to help, if it’ll really make you feel better, then alright. But please don’t do it because you’re ashamed. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. The very _last_ thing I’d _ever_ do is judge you. If there’s something you don’t want me to see or don’t want me to touch, we can discuss it. I don’t want to intrude. I know I keep saying it over and over, but I just want to make you happy—make you healthy, I mean.”

“I…I’m already embarrassed,” Gerard said, sighing and walking into his messy living room. Frank followed his quickly, distressed by how suddenly Gerard had gone from looking relieved to distressed. “I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t need help cleaning up my mess. I shouldn’t have ever let it get this bad in the first place,” he spat, tossing a glass bottle off his couch and watching it roll across the floor as he sank into his seat. 

Slowly, Frank came to sit beside him, ignoring the sharp object poking into his thigh.

“Gerard, can I…can I tell you something?” Frank asked, placing his hand on Gerard’s shoulder gently. 

“Yeah, sure,” Gerard said, his head in his hands—his elbows balanced on his knees as he stared at the floor. 

“I…I know it’s not my place to say this, but…we’re—we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, looking up at Frank briefly before lowering his head yet again.

“So…the thing is, Gerard, the reason I’ve gotten so close with you—the reason I’ve _let_ myself get so close to you… Well, not just you, but… Oh, geez. I don’t know what I’m trying to say… A lot of the nurses, they don’t understand self-harm patients. It’s not that they don’t like them or don’t want to treat them, they just don’t understand. I… I do because…because I’ve been there before and…and I say this with the utmost confidence that you won’t tell my bosses or the staff. I could get fired if they think I can’t manage my own emotions or that I’m not stable enough to work in the field.”

“Frank, I… No, I won’t tell anyone,” Gerard said, finally looking up and keeping his head up. He had his eyes on Frank, searching his face, looking anxious and sympathetic. His eyes were so soft and kind, and Frank was hopeful he’d never have to see them go dull or dark again. 

“Thank you,” Frank whispered, looking down at his hand a moment before squeezing Gerard’s shoulder and letting his story begin.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard’s heart had broken for Frank. It was hard to even focus on cleaning up his apartment after Frank had finished his tale. The two had gone out together to get dinner—salads from the small grocery store up the road—and then ate while sitting together on the freshly vacuumed couch. Gerard tried not to dwell on the story, afraid it would make Frank more embarrassed or uncomfortable than he already appeared to be. 

His story had been one of tragedy—horrible tragedy and sorrow. Gerard couldn’t even imagine how he’d survived so long before he had attempted to take his own life. His parents had both died when he was young, leaving him to be raised by his aunt and uncle. They supported him financially, he said, making sure he got his education and was always well fed—but they were strict as well, and conservative. 

They forced him to end the relationships he entered with threats of ceasing to pay for his schooling, selling the car they’d gotten him, or making him get a full-time job to pay for his own classes. The partners his aunt and uncle didn’t find out about usually dumped him within a few weeks, Frank had said—unaccepting of his tight schedule, displeased with being kept a secret, too busy for him or seeing someone else on the side. 

Gerard thought the story would end there—Frank would have had enough of the rejection and lack of emotional support and acceptance at home and would’ve made an attempt—but it didn’t. It got better before it got worse.

He finally found a boyfriend, a steady, stable boyfriend who loved him. They moved in together Frank’s senior year, permanently severing Frank’s ties to his aunt and uncle. It had been hard at first—financially and emotionally—not having his guardians with him, but he learned to rely on his partner instead. 

At the start, everything was good—perfect was the word Frank had used—and then the abuse started. Mental torture, he’d said. Telling him cruel things—that he was too needy when he called mid-day, that he was too dependent when he wanted date nights at least once a week. 

To Gerard, it sounded normal, but when Frank spoke about the distance his boyfriend tried to put between them he sounded so distressed and hurt. Frank seemed to notice that Gerard didn’t see the dismissive gestures of his less than interested boyfriend as something equivalent to torture, Frank confessed the rest of his story.

The week Frank had gotten his first job nursing in a small clinic, his boyfriend began hitting him. He wanted to break up, Frank said, but they couldn’t afford to live apart so his boyfriend took to hitting him to get out his frustrations. 

Despite it all, Frank still loved him. He wanted their relationship to work out. He wanted them to build their future together. But his boyfriend didn’t want that. Dismissive words turned to words of hate.

Who could ever love Frank? No one. Who would ever want to live with him? Who would ever want to spend _time_ with him? Frank was stupid. He was crazy. He was worthless…

Finally, Frank said, the words all became too much—the hatred and resentment, far too much to bear.

Frank didn’t give Gerard the details, but he confessed to having tried to take his own life. 

He knew how it felt to be desperate, to be lonely, to see no way out aside from death. It hurt him so much when he saw patients going through the same struggles as himself. He related to them. It was a miracle, he’d said, that he had survived his own attempt and wanted others to feel the same—feel blessed to have survived instead of distressed, instead of feeling the need to go home and begin the downward spiral again.

That was why, Frank said, he was so determined to see Gerard get better. That was why he was determined to see his self-harm patients get better.

Life is beautiful, Frank insisted. There was joy in it that sometimes took an eternity to arrive, and he wanted to make sure everyone got the chance to feel that happiness. Frank’s joy was in saving lives, making sure that those who survived weren’t just existing, but living. 

Gerard could tell that Frank meant it, too. His eyes lit up when he spoken about it.

“But you don’t…get this close to all of your patients,” Gerard had said after the story had ended. 

“No. With…with you it’s different. I…” Frank paused to laugh nervously, to blush. “I think we should get dinner. It’s getting late.”

Long after they’d finished their meal—if salad could be considered a meal—and after Frank had gone home, all Gerard could think about was his story, about how hard it must’ve been for Frank to have lived in that home with a partner who hurt him, belittled him…drove him to suicide. 

He felt so sorry for the other man. He wished he had more to say to him than apologies that couldn’t help or change anything. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank couldn’t sit still. He just kept pacing—walking back and forth in his apartment with a glass of water in one hand and two of his sleeping tablets in the other. He needed to go to bed, but he didn’t want to. He would have the nightmares again now that he’d broken his vow and had spoken about it—about _him._

He was shaking so hard that water would splash over the rim of his glass and spatter on the floor, but he couldn’t even think to set the glass down. 

His breaths were getting sharper and sharper—harder to take in until he was close to hyperventilating. 

Why had he said those things? Why did he tell Gerard about _him?_ Was he crazy? 

Gerard was going to think he was crazy now. He was going to hate him—ask the hospital to assign him a new caregiver. Frank had made Gerard uncomfortable, hardly able to speak to him or look at him after the too-long story had ended. 

He’d gotten so far and now he’d ruined it.

Frank started sobbing and sank down onto his living room floor, dropping the glass—dropping his pills. 

The silence of his apartment was deafening. He’d wanted to stay with Gerard—he just wanted to stay with Gerard, or get close enough so they could talk on the phone at night after Frank had to leave. 

He just wanted a friend—a boyfriend. A lover. 

The clothing he’d taken from Gerard’s apartment weren’t the same as a living, breathing person. 

Frank didn’t want to be alone at night anymore. He wanted company, companionship—Gerard. He wanted _Gerard._ He wanted his big-eyed, black-haired, small-nosed beauty. He wanted _Gerard._

Crying, Frank looked down at the spilled water and tablets. 

He wished Gerard were here, in his apartment. It was clean here, safer, quieter. No mold, no heaps of dirty clothes… There was room enough for two people. Why couldn’t Gerard just come here to sleep? 

Slowly, Frank stretched himself out across the floor, his head resting in the water from the overturned glass as he shivered and cried. 

Why couldn’t Gerard move in with him? They were friends—Gerard had said so. They were friends now and if he moved in, Frank would make sure it stayed that way. If Gerard moved in, he could make sure Gerard’s brother didn’t poison his darling’s mind against him. He knew Mikey didn’t like him, thought him suspicious. How long would it take for the man to convince Gerard that Frank was dangerous? Not to be trusted…

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed. He tried to tell himself that nothing was going to change over night. It was close to three in the morning. Gerard was sleeping—cozy and safe in his own warm bed. A clean, cozy bed that Gerard _knew_ Frank was the reason that bed was fresh—the sheets changed, the clothes picked up. 

He tried to console himself with mental images of Gerard sleeping snuggled up to his pillow, buried under blankets.

He tried and tried, but nothing helped. He curled into a ball on the floor, his hair soaking up the spilled water and chilling his scalp. 

He wanted to be with Gerard. He wanted to lie in bed, warm and safe, with Gerard.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in posting this update! I've taken on too many projects @_@ This one gets a little sticky at the end but hopefully it's still a decent update!

_8_

Gerard found himself smiling when he answered the door the next morning. It was earlier than he’d like to be up, but he’d known Frank was coming over to help get the apartment back in order so he’d made a point to get up.

“Good morning!” Frank said, smiling cheerfully. He had a bag in one hand that he rustled happily. “I brought you some breakfast.”

“O-Oh! That’s—that’s… Thank you,” Gerard said, stammering a bit in surprise. Frank really wasn’t supposed to bring him meals the way he did, but he did appreciate them. The man had such good taste.

Maybe later in the day, Gerard would be able to convince Frank to join him when he went grocery shopping. Knowing Frank like he did, the man would definitely agree if he didn’t have to report back to the hospital for a shift. 

Frank made his way inside and started laying out Tupperware containers of food. 

“Y-You made me b-breakfast?” Gerard said, eyes going wide.

Frank just smiled at him as he went to retrieve a plate from the cupboard.

“Yes. I thought you deserved a nice home-cooked meal for once. I made some omelets for us and some hash browns. They’re not the most healthy of things, but I thought a little fried food couldn’t hurt.” Frank smiled at him, his eyes bright and shiny, causing Gerard to blush and duck his head as he neared the table. “They should still be hot. I came over as fast as I could. You know, you only live a ten minute ride away by bus?”

“That’s—that’s cool,” Gerard said, grabbing forks and knives before sitting down. Frank served him two stuffed omelets that had vegetables and cheese oozing out the sides then a helping of the shredded, fried potatoes. “Wow—Frank, this is really great.”

“You think so?” Frank asked, sitting down across from Gerard and smiling at him nervously. “If—If they’re cold, I can heat them up in them microwave. I don’t want you to feel like you have to eat them if they’re not…not good.”

“It’s perfect,” Gerard said, smiling as he took a small bite of the omelet. How he managed to make eggs and cheese taste so good, even after they’d long since gotten cold, Gerard would never understand. “M-maybe next time, if you want to eat together, we could make it together at my place.”

“You’d like that?” Frank asked, his smile somehow getting even brighter.

“Yeah, of course. I should help out. It’s too much for you to make me everything and bring it across town on a bus.” 

“It’s no trouble for me. If it were, I wouldn’t do it,” Frank said, taking a bite of his omelet. He seemed to discover that Gerard had lied about it getting cold because his face fell, but he kept eating regardless. 

“I was actually…wondering if you’d want to go grocery shopping with me later. If you’re not busy, I mean. You always know what to get and all I ever buy are Hot Pockets and fast food.”

“Well, we can’t have you eating anymore fast food,” Frank said, smiling just a little—most of the light suddenly gone from his eyes. 

“Is everything okay?” Gerard asked, biting his lip nervously.

“Yeah…mine’s just a little cold.”

“I can heat it up for you,” Gerard suggested.

“No… Not necessary.”

“Are you sure?” Gerard asked.

“Yes. I’m fine.” He sounded a bit angry so Gerard ceased his questioning and turned his attention back to his plate. He really hadn’t meant to annoy Frank…

“After breakfast, I’ll wash up the dishes if you want to collect your laundry.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, looking only at his plate as he ate. He really didn’t want Frank angry with him and spent the rest of their silent meal thinking of something he could do that would cheer the nurse up. “Frank?”

“Yes?” Frank asked, his tone indifferent as he looked down at his plate. 

“I… I hope it’s not intrusive or anything for me to suggest this, but…if you’re upset about the food getting cold on your commute, what if—what if we made breakfast here together next time? If you want a next time, I mean,” Gerard added quickly. “I-I could buy stuff for us to cook with and we could—”

“I’d like that very much,” Frank interrupted.

Gerard looked up at him, taken aback by how excited Frank looked. All of his anger and annoyance was gone, replaced with a wide smile and bright eyes. 

“You know, you—you could just come to my apartment. I have all sorts of food and—and your apartment is nice, but I have a little more room to move around. Would that be alright? If you came to my place instead?”

“Yeah—definitely,” Gerard said, laughing a little nervously. He didn’t expect the suggestion to make Frank that excited, but he guessed it was understandable. He was such a lonely guy… The prospect of having company, even if it was just a patient, had to cheer him up.

“It’ll be perfect. Just _perfect!_ We—We could even do dinners at my place if you wanted. I have a ton of recipes we could try.”

“Sure,” Gerard answered, smiling anxiously. He wasn’t as excited by the idea as Frank seemed to be, even though he did appreciated the company as well. Getting out of the hospital and spending his nights completely and utterly alone wasn’t the most pleasant way to live, after all. 

“You don’t have to,” Frank said, his smile disappearing instantly before he looked back down at his half-empty plate. “I… Forgive me. I’ve taken things too far.”

“No—No, Frank, I didn’t mean I wasn’t interested. I—I just didn’t expect you to want me around your house. I’m not used to being—” Gerard stopped himself mid-sentence. He didn’t want to let himself sound that pathetic. He wasn’t used to be wanted… How desperate did that sound? “I’m not used to having someone help me out. I-I can’t ever tell if I’m crossing a boundary or something. I mean… You’re hired to look out for me. It doesn’t give me the right to invite myself over to your house.”

“If I didn’t like you I’d say that’s true,” Frank said. “But we’re friends, Gerard. Aren’t we?”

“I-I’d like to think we are,” Gerard said, blushing a bit as he looked away toward the wall. This entire situation was so foreign to him and he really had no idea how to handle it. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“It’s hard to adjust once you’re sent home. I understand,” Frank said, his voice gentle. “Especially in your case. I worry leaving you here alone at night. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you…”

“I-I’m not going to make another attempt, if that’s what you mean,” Gerard stammered, turning back to his meal and beginning to eat a little faster—flustered by the shift in conversation. 

“I would hope not, Gerard. We wouldn’t have released you if we thought you were on the verge of a relapse.” 

Not knowing how to respond, Gerard just nodded and continued eating—sensing Frank’ eyes on him as he finished his meal. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard still felt so uneasy, even after Frank had left his apartment. Something had happened during breakfast—and then again when Frank had been helping him with laundry. Frank was definitely irritable that morning, mad that his food had gotten cold on his commute but refusing to let Gerard heat it for him. It was such an odd thing for him to get upset about and Gerard couldn’t even imagine _why_ Frank wanted to bring him food or why it was so important to him…

Frank was lonely, he knew that very well, but loneliness didn’t make people act that way. It was like Frank was afraid to make a bad impression, even though Gerard owed his life to him and couldn’t possibly harbor a negative thought about him. Even now, uneasy as he was, Gerard wasn’t upset with Frank or afraid of him. He was just…concerned.

Frank’s mood picked up as they started doing the household chores—he even sang to himself as he washed the dishes though Gerard only overheard a line or two as he gathered his laundry. Then, while they were cleaning up Gerard’s bedroom, he snapped again out of nowhere.

Gerard didn’t know if he’d seen something or found something when Gerard’s back was turned, but his good mood turned sour again. He started muttering to himself as he straightened Gerard’s bedding. Gerard asked him if everything was okay and Frank glared at him—honestly _glared_ at him—before he caught himself and shook his head, his expression becoming blank. 

He never told Gerard what was wrong, but he remained in a foul mood until he left at three o’clock. He wouldn’t even confirm whether or not he wanted to meet for lunch the next day…

Gerard looked around his room after Frank had gone, wondering if he’d left something out that had offended him—an old sketch or a movie or something—but there was nothing…

Frank was just…gone. 

Sighing, Gerard sank down onto his couch and buried his head in his hands, left wondering what he’d done wrong even though he _knew_ he hadn’t done anything. Frank seemed so _dedicated_ to him. It was odd for that to change so quickly and Gerard was honestly frightened by it. 

It was out of character for Frank and Gerard was deeply, deeply frightened that he’d scared him off or angered him. Frank was the only friend he had and he didn’t want to lose him…

Unable to take anymore, Gerard picked up his cell phone around eight that night and called Frank’s number. He was still grappling with what to say as he listened to the phone ring, but his spirits sank when he got nothing but Frank’s voicemail—forcing him to compose a message even when he’d been counting on Frank’s input to form a conversation. 

“U-Um, h-hey. Hi. I-It’s me. Gerard. Um…I-I, I’m sorry if—if I’m… Um—I just noticed you seemed upset today when…when you left and I was worried that maybe I—I don’t know. Maybe I did something or said something to make you un-uncomfortable. I-I’m really sorry if I did. I…I don’t know what happened and—and… Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. I-I don’t know. I’m sorry if I’m prying; I just got worried. Um… Call me? Shit, you’re probably busy with work—uh… Just let me know if uh… J-Just tell me if there’s something I can do. H-Have a good…a good night.” He hung up the phone before he could prattle on anymore and slammed his phone down on the couch beside him, feeling stupid and pathetic. 

How desperate did he sound in that message? How pathetic? How _crazy_ did he sound calling his hospital appointed caregiver begging to know why the man had gotten frustrated?

Of course Frank had gotten frustrated. He was forced to clean up Gerard’s messes. Who wanted to spend their days doing that? He was a nurse. He belonged in the hospital where he could move from room to room helping many people—not wasting his whole day on one lost cause.

Gerard shuddered, feeling tears bite the backs of his eyes—rushing him all at once. He was back in the same pit of self-loathing and self-pity that landed him in the hospital in the first place, a state that filled him with shame. Why couldn’t he just pull himself together? Why couldn’t he just act _sane?_

No wonder he drove away all of the people closest to him. He was nothing but a weak, blubbering fool. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was still grumbling to himself in thinly veiled rage as he sorted through the paperwork that had come in with his latest patient. He was tired and irritable and he just wanted to go home and _sleep._ He didn’t want to give shots or clean infections—he didn’t want to change the diapers of the invalids he was being made to care for. Not tonight.

He was already filled to the brim with revulsion and disgust.

The morning had already started off badly when the food he’d brought to Gerard had gotten cold along the way. He’d been so _stupid_ to think it would stay at temperature and he hated himself for risking Gerard’s health by delivering to him unsafe food. Sure, he wouldn’t mind cleaning up after the beautiful, dark-haired man in his hour of need, but he didn’t want to give him food poisoning. That could too easily get out of hand and kill him…

He’d started to feel better when Gerard had proposed coming to visit Frank at his apartment so they could cook meals together, but then they’d set to cleaning up Gerard’s bedroom and that was when Frank lost it.

He knew that in cleaning the bedroom he was bound to come across personal items—things Gerard might not want him to see and thing he himself didn’t want to find—but he hadn’t expected _that._ Just the memory caused Frank’s lip to curl in disgust.

Under the bed, covered in a layer of dust, was a discarded, _used_ condom. 

Frank knew Gerard had had lover before—of course he had—but no amount of rationalization calmed his rage. It made him furious. Someone had been in that apartment before Frank. Someone had taken Gerard in that very bed, then left the evidence behind. It was such a filthy thing—a disgusting, crude thing to find laying around. He was mad at the stranger he didn’t know and he was mad at Gerard for leaving it there. How could he _not_ have seen it!? How could he have left it for so long!?

Didn’t he _ever_ look under his bed?

Frank had no reason to feel _jealous,_ but he did. He didn’t want to think about Gerard being with other men, let alone see the evidence of such an affair. It angered him so much he couldn’t even stand to look at Gerard after the fact. 

Didn’t Gerard know he deserved better than some man who would leave his _filth_ on his bedroom floor? Didn’t he knew he was too good for that _shit!?_

No. No, he _didn’t_ know, because everyone he let close to him failed him. No one told him how much better he could be…

It made Frank angry—just so all around angry. He hadn’t meant to take it out on Gerard, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. It was either leave in silence or scream some sense into the man.

Didn’t he know he was beautiful? Didn’t he know he was too _perfect_ to let himself be discarded by lousy men?

Somehow he managed to finish his shift at the hospital without causing a scene and crawl back home, exhausted and irritable. Once there, he plugged in his cell phone that had died mid-shift and turned it on.

His eyes widened when he saw the number of notifications which popped up on his screen. Three texts and a missed call.

All from Gerard. 

The first text was a simple “Hey,” the next a brief “Is everything okay?” then a final “I hope work went OK.”

Frank clicked through the texts then tapped on his voicemail icon—not at all prepared for Gerard’s stammered, shaky message. Frank’s outburst had scared him. He sounded close to tears in his message, and Frank’s chest tightened. 

How quickly he had forgotten that his actions brought consequences… Gerard’s feelings had been hurt and, without any explanation from Frank for his bad mood, he’d turned on himself—thinking he was the reason Frank was angry. He had to be thinking he was about to be abandoned again by his only friend. 

Frank stared at his phone, confliction overwhelming him. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just _call_ him, could he? Was that appropriate? 

What if he called and Gerard had shifted from being sad to being angry? After all, it was unbecoming for Frank to throw a tantrum like that and no one would blame Gerard if he called the hospital and requested a new caregiver—or cancelled the service altogether. 

Frank began shaking just at the thought, his breaths becoming uneven as the panic set in.

Gerard was going to call the hospital. He was going to tell them he didn’t like Frank and wanted someone else. Frank could get _fired_ for his behavior—but that didn’t even matter at this point!

Frank didn’t care about his _job._ He cared about _Gerard._ He wanted _Gerard._ Just Gerard. He wanted to see Gerard every day, touch him every day—hold him. Keep him close and protected from all the evils of the world. Frank wanted Gerard to come over and cook with him, spend time with him, fall _in love with him_ and never ever leave.

How was that going to happen now?—Now that he’d scared him away with his reckless temper?

Frank’s legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed onto the floor, whimpering in mixed fear and despair. Gerard was so _perfect_ for him! He was kind and handsome… Frank couldn’t believe he’d messed everything up because he’d gotten jealous over a stupid condom of all things.

Of course someone as gorgeous as Gerard would have previous lovers. Of course there would be traces of those men left hanging around. Frank’s task was to _replace_ those people, not fly into fits of rage at the mere mention of them. 

What was he going to do now?

He’d never find anyone else like Gerard… Never. Gerard was perfect. He was so perfect.

Frank let out a soft sob and fell onto his side. The pain in his chest radiated outward, consuming all of his body—causing him to flail, kicking his legs and slamming them over and over into the wall and the floor. A loud cry broke past his lips as he banged his head against the floor—trying to bash out the painful thoughts. 

It couldn’t be over. It couldn’t.

Not yet.

Not yet. Not yet. _Not yet._

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard woke with a start, almost falling off his couch when he heard a loud banging on his apartment door. He sat up, but froze after that—his eyes wide and fearful. He’d fallen asleep after midnight and couldn’t imagine who would be at his door so late. It was still dark out so he knew it wasn’t Frank come to help him with his routine. 

He was still staring over the back of his couch at the door when they knocking came again.

“Gerard? Gerard, are you home!?” The call was followed by even more frantic knocking and Gerard leapt up from the couch. 

It _was_ Frank, and he sounded terrified. Gerard got to the door as quickly as he could, stumbling a little in his sleepy haze, and undid the deadbolt and chain link. 

“Frank?” He asked as he pulled open the door. He didn’t know what to expect with the racket Frank was making—in some respects he thought he’d be confronted with blood or some serious injury even though he didn’t know why the nurse would come to him for help. 

However, when he opened the door, Frank was standing there soaking wet and trembling. His eyes were bloodshot and he was wringing his hands in front of him as he stared up at Gerard. He looked almost timid, not at all like someone who had just knocked on Gerard’s door loud enough to wake the whole building. 

“Is everything okay?” Gerard asked when Frank failed to respond to him. 

“I-I… I just got your messages. M-My phone died. I-I h-had a…a shift at the hospital after I was at your place. I wasn’t trying to ignore you,” Frank said.

Gerard stared at him, unable to form a reply. All that racket, Frank’s disheveled and worried appearance, was because Frank had missed his call? It didn’t feel right. There was a nervousness that sank into the pit of his stomach as Frank gazed up at him. 

This wasn’t _right._

“Did you hear me?” Frank asked. “I-I told you I missed your messages because I was at work. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“Yeah, I heard you, but what are you doing here?” Gerard asked. He couldn’t even begin to feel relieved that Frank hadn’t intentionally been ignoring him. This reaction was just so…odd. 

“I… I’m sorry. I know it’s late and I know you need rest, but I got so worried that…because of how I acted today when I left that…” Frank looked away from him and took in a shaking breath. “I got scared you’d hurt yourself. I was scared something had happened.”

“O-Oh!” Gerard said, rubbing his arm nervously. He guessed that did make sense, though it embarrassed him that Frank thought he was really that desperate or dependent. “N-No—I was asleep on the couch. Um… Do you want to come in?”

“Okay,” Frank said, nodding and hurrying into the apartment—sliding his body against Gerard’s as he did. “I’m really sorry for coming over so late. I was just so nervous. I couldn’t sleep o-or anything. Oh, God…” 

Frank made his way over to Gerard’s couch and dropped down heavily on the center cushion. Gerard hurried to close and relock the door before going to Frank’s side. The other man was still trembling—and wet.

“Let me get you a towel—is it raining?”

“Th-thank you. Yes. It…It started around one this morning. The lightning kept me up, too,” Frank said, his voice frail.

Gerard went into the bathroom to grab a fresh towel and paused a moment to collect his thoughts. Frank was a nurse, he reminded himself. He saw lots of terrible things happen all the time and it was really no wonder he’d assume the worst when Gerard slept through his calls and texts. It was a little irrational, but it was endearing at the same time. 

He cared so much he couldn’t he sleep. There was finally a person in Gerard’s life who cared about his wellbeing enough to check on him when he fell silent. 

Finally.

When he returned to the couch, Gerard wrapped the yellow towel around Frank’s shoulders—taking a moment to fluff the towel and rub some warmth into Frank’s arms before backing away.

“I wish I had something to give you to drink. You’re half frozen… All I’ve got is water and coffee.”

“I don’t need anything, but thank you,” Frank said, trembling and pulling the towel more closely around his shoulders. It was doing him no good to have it merely draped over him in that way, but Gerard didn’t know what else to offer. 

Would it be odd for him to suggest Frank change into one of his outfits? Gerard hesitated only a minute longer before the offer worked its way out of his mouth.

“Frank, let me get you a change of clothes. You’re completely soaked…”

“Oh,” Frank said, looking down at his lap as if he were really only noticing how drenched he was with water. “Thank you. I’m sorry about all this. If you want me to go—”

“Don’t be silly,” Gerard said, offering Frank a small smile. “Come on—you can pick out something of mine to change into.”

He held out his hand for Frank to take and guided him off of the couch and into his bedroom. After clipping on the light, he went over to his closet and opened the door. Frank stayed at his side, occasionally wiping at his face with a hand he had wrapped up in the yellow towel before he reached out and selected a large sweater. 

“I think I have some sweatpants, too,” Gerard said, going to his dresser and sifting through the drawers a moment before he found a pair that wasn’t too stained. He left the room while Frank got changed and waited for him on the couch, avoiding the wet spot in the cushions where Frank had previously been sitting. 

He could hear the rain beating against the windows of his apartment and wondered how long Frank had been outside in it before someone buzzed him into the building…or if he’d taken a bus or simply ran across town on foot—risking his health just to make sure that Gerard was okay.

In the middle of the night.

It was as odd to Gerard as it was endearing…sweet. 

“I really hope you don’t think I’m crazy,” Frank said as he stepped back into the living room. “I have crazy though, don’t I? Oh, God… I’m sorry for all of this, I just couldn’t _sleep._ I don’t sleep anymore.” He sank down onto the couch beside Gerard, looking tiny in Gerard’s large clothes. 

“You don’t look crazy,” Gerard said, even though that had been his first thought when he’d seen Frank outside his door. “It means a lot to me that you were so worried. You’re a good friend.”

Frank looked over at him, chewing his lip. He seemed to be at a loss for words, but so was Gerard. He had no idea what they should talk about, but he also knew he couldn’t send Frank home. His clothes were wet and it was still dumping down rain—not at all pleasant weather to walk around in while wearing sweat clothes. 

“Gerard?” Frank said, his voice eerily soft.

“Yeah?”

Frank was staring at him, but it wasn’t…unsettling. It was an intense look, like Frank was searching him, but Gerard had himself convinced that Frank was checking for signs that Gerard were upset or had been before Frank arrived.

“You don’t want the hospital to assign you someone else, do you? I mean… I haven’t done anything to make you uncomfortable, right?”

“What?—No. No, I _like_ having you here. Of all the people in that hospital, you’re the only who gave a shit about me.”

“Okay. I had to ask after how I behaved today… I’m _sorry_ I got so mad earlier, but it wasn’t about you. I’m just _tired._ ”

“You work so much, I’m not surprised you’re exhausted. If you ever just want to stay home and sleep instead of come here—”

“No—that’ not what I’m trying to say. Not at _all._ I-I _like_ being here with you, Gerard. It’s the…the best part of my day,” Frank said, smiling bashfully and ducking his head. He was blushing.

Holy shit, he was _blushing._

Gerard looked away from him, his heart starting to beat harder in his chest. Frank wasn’t here because he was a nurse concerned about his patient, or because he was a friend worried about another friend. Frank was here because he _liked_ Gerard.

What was he supposed to make of that? He’d just gotten out of the hospital—for _suicide_ of all things. He’d been poisoned in that place and left completely helpless… The only reason he’d gotten better was because of Frank and his special interest in him. He was _fortunate_ that Frank liked him more than a nurse should. He’d be dead otherwise. 

Frank was…kind and generous—selflessly generous. Of course he was handsome, too, but Gerard saw past that. Beauty was only skin deep, after all, and he’d learned in the past just how wicked attractive people could be under their disguises. Frank wasn’t like those other people, though. Frank was different in so many ways…

“You know…you could always come over here and nap if you’re ever that tired.”

“My job is to help you get organized and make sure you’re taking your medicine properly—and eating properly. I can’t get paid to sleep on your couch.”

“I wouldn’t tell them you took a nap. We’re friends, remember?”

“Yes,” Frank said, nodding his head slowly. “And, as your friend, I want to see you get better and healthier. I can’t do that if I’m passed out.”

“But you can’t help too much if you’re falling asleep. What’s keep you up all night?”

Frank didn’t answer a moment and the happiness drained away from his face.

“Sorry,” Gerard said quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry. That’s a personal question…”

“It’s okay,” Frank said. “I just have so much going on in my head. It’s hard to sleep. I have medicine, but… I don’t know. I use it for special situations.”

They made polite conversation for a while after that, the topic shifting to the awful downpour outside as they both slid further and further down on the couch until they each leaned against one of the couch’s arms and their feet shared the center cushion. Frank smiled at him lazily as they discussed the bad winter the year before, even though Frank’s contribution to the subject was a story about spraining his wrist after falling on an icy sidewalk. 

It wasn’t the story or the topic that was causing him to smile, Gerard knew. Frank was smiling at him—happy to be near him, with him. 

Gerard knew it was odd for a person in Frank’s situation to act this way around a patient. That being said, he knew that _Frank_ was odd. He’d had a hard life and struggled with depression, just as Gerard had. He saw in Gerard a kindred spirit—someone he could relate to and empathize with.

Gerard saw the same in Frank. Therapists wouldn’t understand him the way Frank did—the way a friend could. 

The way a _partner_ might.

And that seemed to be where this was heading. After an hour or so of conversation, Frank had started scooting closer on the couch until they were side by side. Then, whenever he would laugh at a story Gerard told, Frank made a point to touch Gerard’s arm…or his thigh. 

The touches caused Gerard to blush, but Frank never commented on it. He just kept smiling and maintained eye contact. 

It wasn’t some sleaze coming on for a one night stand. Frank was _interested._ It was real… Frank cared about him and it showed in his smile and in his eyes. 

“It’s getting really late,” Frank said when their conversation finally died down. “I should probably go home.”

“Do you have a shift in the morning?” Gerard asked.

“No. I’m just scheduled to come visit you,” Frank said, smiling.

“Then why not just crash here at my place? It’ll be like a sleep over,” Gerard said, laughing nervously.

“Okay,” Frank said, grinning even wider. 

Gerard blushed and turned away from him, trying to hide how embarrassingly giddy Frank’s smile made him. It was hard, however, when Frank was smiling at him like he’d won the fucking lottery.


End file.
